


up into the silence, the green

by bellpickle



Series: loves: a couplet [1]
Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Jack as a bad dad, M/M, Multi, Unhealthy Relationships, and a bad guy in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:39:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 22
Words: 78,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellpickle/pseuds/bellpickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys thought he was ready for anything when he arrived on Helios as a newly minted Hyperion worker bee. Until the CEO was murdered on his very first day.</p><p>-----</p><p>"Hey there, kiddos! Handsome Jack here. I’m sure you’ve all heard the good news by now, or at least waved at it as it floated by the windows. If you look real closely at Mr Tassiter’s frostbitten face, you can see the tear streaks from when he cried like a pansy bitch in his final moments. Good times!”</p><p>“Anyway, just wanted to tell you all how honored I am to know that you dirty ingrates are already making attempts on my life. I’m expecting at least one more before the day’s end, so don’t disappoint me. I’ll be waiting."</p><p>-----</p><p>The story of how Rhys fell in love with the most hated man in six galaxies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Greed pt.I

ACCESSING EMPLOYEE DATABASE… PROCESSING SEARCH QUERY…  
SEARCH COMPLETE  
OPENING CONTACT RECORD 12475…

CONTACT NAME: Rhys  
AGE: 24  
TITLE: Sr Information Security Specialist  
CURRENT STATUS: Recent Arrival

ACCESSING PERSONAL RECORDS...  
PROCESSING ENCRYPTION KEY…  
ERROR: RECORD DOES NOT EXIST

<!-- file away for further review -->  
<!-- and no last name? weird -->

…

ACCESSING ECHO LOG 13447...  
TIMESTAMP 23:06

…

“Shit, man, this is bad. Everything’s gone to hell.”  
“Woah, woah, what? What happened?”  
“Tassiter’s dead.”  
“What?”  
“Yeah. And _John_ is the one who killed him. I knew that son of a bitch wouldn’t stop at just stealing all our shares.”  
“You’re kidding. _That_ douchebag killed our CEO? Christ.”  
“We should’ve seen it coming. We should’ve fucking seen it coming.”  
“Yeah, well… there’s no way he’ll last long. The board will find some reason to kick his ass to the curb. That’s if the remaining shareholders don’t off him first.”  
“I dunno, man. He’s been saying some pretty wild stuff. Something about some element buried on Pandora, something really big.”  
“Yeah, right. He’s so full of shit. Have you heard his little story about what happened on Elpis? He’s been telling everyone that he killed a vault monster all by himself, with nothing but a Hyperion shotgun. What a steaming pile. Like anyone believes anything he says.”  
“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m gonna go call the rest of the guys and try to figure out our next steps. Tomorrow’s gonna be a total clusterfuck.”  
“Yeah, it’s gonna suck. Good luck, man.”

…

<!-- keep track of these idiots -->  
<!-- why does every person at this company have to be such an asshole -->

…

* * *

Here was what Rhys learned in the past three hours:

  1. Helios might’ve technically been operational, but it was still very much under construction. That much was obvious when Rhys noticed the gaping hole in the wall next to his brand new desk, exposed pipes and all. 
  2. The CEO (the one he actually knew about, the one he memorized the picture of so that he wouldn’t make a fool of himself in his presence) was murdered the night before. Tassiter’s corpse was then ejected into the void that surrounded Helios, his floating, frozen carcass on display for all of Hyperion to see, strangulation marks and all. 
  3. The new CEO was named Jack … or John. For some reason, Rhys kept hearing people throw around different names. He was a programmer not too long ago, but found something on Elpis that gave him leverage over Hyperion’s upper management, including the other C-level executives. Rhys also heard that his face was a mask, but had no idea what that meant. Was he in costume all the time or something? 
  4. Rhys’s ECHOeye had been weirdly glitchy ever since landing on Helios. Rhys thought updating the software would solve the issue, but it only seemed to be getting worse.
  5. In times of crisis, no one at Hyperion gave a damn about new employee orientation. His fellow coworkers barely even glanced in his direction the whole morning, and his department head, Mr. Henderson, seemed intent on locking himself inside his office the whole day.



The last point ended up being something of a mixed blessing. Watching Hyperion employees that morning was sort of like watching a Rakk with its wings cut off, helplessly squiggling around in the sand. That was to say: Rhys may have had no idea what the hell he was doing, but apparently, no one else knew what to do either.

The first real interaction he had all day was with a fidgety accountant (Vaughn, Rhys reminded himself) who informed him that he was his assigned “Hyperion buddy”.

“Basically, I’m just supposed to take you to lunch every now and then,” Vaughn said with a nervous laugh as they made their way to the cafeteria. “But man, this must be one craaazy first day for you, huh?”

As if on cue, a gaggle of exceptionally well-dressed men rushed past them, the loudest one of them proclaiming, “This whole company is fucked.”

“It’s been … educational,” Rhys said with a sigh, eyeing the men as they rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

The cafeteria was oddly quiet despite the afternoon rush, everyone hunched over their tables, whispering to each other conspiratorially. Vaughn’s friend, Yvette, already had a table reserved for them when they arrived. She acknowledged Rhys with a sly half-nod before asking, “So, new guy, how are you liking Hyperion so far?”

Rhys paused thoughtfully in-between bites of his sandwich (ham and cheese—old habits die hard). “Considering I saw a dead body less than six hours after my arrival ... It’s more or less what I was expecting.”

Vaughn laughed, sounding much more relaxed in Yvette’s presence. “Tell me about it. Backstabbing, murder, corporate sabotage. That’s Hyperion in a nutshell.”

“You two are surprisingly calm about all this,” Rhys observed. He gazed pointedly at Yvette, who looked like the kind of woman who could endure god’s wrath with a straight face.

“You know how it is,” she said with a shrug. “New boss, same old shit.”

At that exact moment, the speakers overhead crackled to life. A single voice, smooth and effortlessly magnetic, swallowed up the sound of hushed chatter around them, instantly commanding the attention of every single person in the room.

“Hey there, kiddos! Handsome Jack here. I’m sure you’ve all heard the good news by now, or at least waved at it as it floated by the windows. If you look real closely at Mr Tassiter’s frostbitten face, you can see the tear streaks from when he cried like a pansy bitch in his final moments. Good times!” Jack let out a low chuckle, prompting a few forced, hesitant “ha-has” from the crowd. “ _Anyway_ , just wanted to tell you all how honored I am to know that you dirty ingrates are already making attempts on my life. I’m expecting at least one more before the day’s end, so-” He cleared his throat, his voice dipping to a deep, harsh growl. “Don’t disappoint me. I’ll be waiting.”

The room was deathly still in the moments following the announcement. Just as a low murmur began to fill the silence, the speakers blared to life once more. “Oh yeah, almost forgot. I’m having a little shindig later tonight at ... six-ish? At the ballroom near the main atrium. Attendance is mandatory.” A pause, then, “At ease, soldiers. Jack out.”

This time, it took a full minute before everyone thought it safe to resume their conversations.

“Well,” Vaughn said, staring blankly at the few remaining scraps of food on his plate. “He certainly seems to be a lot more lively than Mr Tassiter.” He blanched as he realized what he said, burying his face in his hands. “Crap, I so did not mean for that to be a pun.”

Yvette rolled her eyes and used her fork to stab one of Vaughn’s untouched potato wedges, transferring it to her own plate. “Pun or not, ‘lively’ isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe him. Granted, Tassiter wasn’t the nicest of guys either, but...”

Rhys was still eyeing the speakers from the corners of his eyes, chin resting on his palm as his fingers idly tapped his jaw in thought. The whole announcement had been a company-wide threat, more than anything. The rational part of his brain knew that he should feel frightened or intimidated or anxious or any number of normal human reactions to obvious danger. But instead, Rhys felt … curious above all else. He activated the holographic screen on the palm of his cybernetic arm, glimpsing the time on the HUD and noting how many hours were left until the party.

Handsome Jack, he thought, imprinting the name into his mind.

* * *

He met up with Vaughn and Yvette at six on the dot, grateful to have some company amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. They were situated towards the back of an enormous auditorium, the cavernous area still barely large enough to fit the entirety of the Helios workforce, which his ECHOeye informed him was more than ten thousand strong. Judging from the tuxedos and formal gowns most other attendees were sporting, Rhys completely stuck out in his dress shirt and slacks. Or rather, he would’ve stuck out if all the guests weren’t practically rubbing elbows in the tight confines of the space.

“So, what do you guys think this is, exactly?” Vaughn asked in a hushed voice just before tipping the lip of his wine glass into his parted mouth, sipping politely.

“Probably more gloating,” answered Yvette, sounding completely unimpressed.

The taut atmosphere only worsened once a figure climbed atop the raised platform at the front of the room. Rhys squinted, but the distance was great enough that he couldn’t clearly make out the person’s features even when zooming with his ECHOeye. Once the figure reached the center of the platform, where the audio had been digitally amplified, his identity became obvious from his voice alone.

“Ladies, gentleman, thank you all for joining me in celebrating this truly historic day. Future generations will look back on this moment and think, ‘ _This_ is when Hyperion truly aspired to greatness.’ Exciting, ain’t it?” he asked no one in particular.

After a heavy pause, Jack continued, “Unfortunately, some are less than enthusiastic about our change in management.” He glanced behind his shoulder, gesturing at someone with a wave of his arm. “Wilhelm! Help guide our guests onto the stage.”

Rhys felt Wilhelm climb onto the platform before ever seeing him, the floor itself vibrating from the sheer force of his steps. A low murmur overtook the crowd as the man came into view … if he could still be considered a man at all. At first, Rhys mistook him for a customized loader bot, until he recognized the undeniably human-shaped torso comprising the man’s upper half.

Rhys hadn’t noticed the four cowering individuals that Wilhelm had herded onto the stage, until Jack approached the one nearest to him, kicking the man behind the knees and forcing him to the floor. “Dave!” Jack said, his voice thick with menace, “What was it you said right before you pointed that pistol at me this morning? I remember it being some lame, uninspired shit like ‘eat this!’ or ‘surprise, asshole!’”

Dave’s every breath was accompanied with the telltale wheeze of a collapsed lung. With some effort, he finally managed to say, “Fuck you, John ... you crazy ba-” The rest of Dave’s sentence was drowned out by a collective gasp as the flat of Jack’s boot met the back of his head, causing his face to impact against the floor with a sickening crack.

Jack spun on his heels and spread his arms wide, addressing the audience at large. “I was originally gonna do this in the privacy of some conference room, but then I had the brilliant idea of _sharing_ this with the rest of you. Now we can all experience it together. Like a tender, loving family.”

Jack snapped his fingers, and in the next moment, there was an explosion of gunfire, a storm of bullets shooting out from Wilhelm’s appendages and shredding through bone and flesh with ease and efficiency, like a cleaver through slabs of meat. The tension in the air finally reached a tipping point, some audience members breaking out into horrified screams at the slaughter unfolding before them. Rhys felt the entire crowd lurch towards the exits, only to find that every door had already been locked shut.

“Oh, calm down,” Jack admonished with a roll of his eyes, as if he were dealing with a room of adolescents. “I’m not gonna kill _you_ guys, for chrissake. I’m not some friggin’ lunatic.” He waited with surprising patience, until the only sounds emanating from the room were of quiet, muffled sobs.

“This,” Jack said, gesturing to the bloodied, lifeless heaps behind him, “Is just a part of the transitionary phase. I know these four sacks of shit were far, far, _far_ from being the only people in this room who wanted to kill me. But, for the sake of this company, I’m willing to wipe the slate clean. Unlike Mr _Tassiter_ -” Jack spat the word out like a curse, “-who couldn’t see five fuckin’ feet in front of him, I actually have a vision. I’ve seen the future of Hyperion.” Jack’s gaze swept across the room, eyes clouding darkly as his mouth twitched into a smirk. “And it is goddamn glorious.”

The captive audience remained deathly silent as every person in attendance simply stared at the man who stood above them all, most with fear shining in their eyes, but some with a budding sense of awe. Jack straightened his posture, his voice taking on its usual easy tone as he said, “Well, what are you all gaping at me for? This is a party, isn’t it? Tassiter had, like, a whole storage room full of booze that he’s obviously not gonna need anymore. So have at it.”

And just like that, the party regained some semblance of normalcy. The janitorial staff disposed of the bodies and mopped up the blood in the blink of an eye, a string quartet band serenading the room as they did so.

Vaughn downed the rest of the wine in his glass, eyes wide with anxiety. “That was fucked. Up.”

Rhys looked at Yvette, who chose to keep her opinion to herself, arms crossed and brows pinched in thought. When it was clear there would be no commentary from her, Rhys asked, “So who is this guy, even? With a personality like _that_ , even a newbie like me should’ve heard of him before today...”

“I heard that he helped build this station or something,” Vaughn replied, shrugging. “And he wears a freaky mask. That’s all I got.”

Rhys glanced towards the front of the room, which was easier to see now that the crowd was steadily disappating. The doors had apparently been unlocked once Jack finished his speech, and unsurprisingly, most people were practically clawing their way to freedom.

After some prodding, Rhys managed to convince the other two to make their way towards the hors d’ouevres near the stage. “How can you still eat after seeing that mass carnage?” Vaughn asked, grimacing as Rhys popped a cherry tomato into his mouth.

Rhys flashed him a cheeky smile and made his way to the cheese platter, carefully turning to face the stage as he did so. Jack was still standing at its center, conversing with a pale, gaunt man with thin blond hair and rather severe cheekbones, the amplified audio now muted for privacy.

After a split second of internal debate, Rhys decided to activate his ECHOeye scanner. As he focused his gaze on the back of Jack’s head, he felt the creeping, tingling sensation that accompanied the suspicion of being watched. Rhys nearly aborted the scan, until he realized: this was Hyperion. It was probably more alarming if he _wasn’t_ constantly being spied on by someone or other.

It only took a moment for him to receive the results.

> **ANALYSIS COMPLETE**
> 
> **Name** : Handsome Jack  
>  **Occupation** : Maintaining this much badassery in one body  
>  **Talents** : Totally crushing it at everything, all the time  
>  **Dick size** : Bigger than yours

Rhys’s face fell, his disappointment palpable. Of course his records were doctored. He should’ve expected it, really.

Without warning, Jack suddenly spun around mid-conversation, searching the dwindling crowd until their eyes locked. Rhys felt himself flinch in shock, both from the abruptness of Jack’s movements as well as the intensity of his gaze. Rhys immediately deactivated his eye and turned away to face his friends. He could feel Jack’s stare lingering on his back and tried his best to ignore it, nervously nibbling cheese cubes as a distraction.

His nerves eased as the minutes continued to slip by uneventfully, the trio enjoying what they assumed to be an extremely expensive bottle of cabarnet sauvignon. It didn’t take long for Rhys to achieve a pleasant tipsyness, the tension in his muscles giving way to the gentle wooziness in his head. At some point, he left the company of his friends and aimlessly stumbled around the area in search of the men’s room.

“ _Nice_ implants, kid. The colors are all wrong, though.”

Rhys stopped in his tracks and peeked over his shoulder, sobering up immediately as he caught sight of the man swiftly approaching him.

He wondered when the hell he had left the stage. He also felt immediately self-conscious of his own shabby appearance, loose-fitting clothes and all. He ran his fingers through the messy locks of hair sticking to his forehead, attempting in vain to tame them.

The moment they were within reach of each other, Jack hooked his fingers around the wrist of Rhys’s cybernetic arm, the black armor-like plating visible beneath his rolled-up sleeve, and lifted it closer to his face. His eyes widened with interest as he twisted his arm at all different angles, inspecting the hardware with all the delicacy of a black market dealer appraising scrapyard metal.

Rhys peered up at Jack through his lashes, taking advantage of his distracted state to get a good look at him up close. He really did wear a mask, but it looked shockingly organic, the material creasing and stretching in an impressive imitation of flesh. His mismatched eyes, now slightly narrowed in concentration, were the colors of the ocean: the blue of clear, deep waters and the green of shallow reefs. Rhys noted the dried blood dotting Jack’s hands, the flecks of red sticking to him like a second skin.

“This is the old branding, cupcake,” Rhys heard Jack say, shaking him out from his own observations. “New company, new colors. We’re moving away from this tacky, gothic crap.”

Jack carelessly released his grip on his arm, and Rhys stumbled for a moment, struggling to regain his balance as his arm’s weight was returned to him. Rhys simply stared at the other man for a long, drawn out moment, his brain struggling to keep up with what was happening. He noticed Jack’s lip curl ever so slightly, either in amusement or irritation—Rhys could no longer tell.

Finally, Rhys blurted, “Um, sorry, sir. I was planning to get the plating changed on my first night here, but ... well, this _is_ my first night...”

That seemed to take Jack by surprise, if his abrupt shift in demeanor was anything to go by. Laughter spilled out from him, loud and sudden, the sound of it attracting furtive glances from nearby guests. “Man, that is hilarious. Best first day ever, huh?”

Rhys carefully considered his reply, eventually settling on, “It was definitely memorable.”

“Damn right it was.” Jack leaned towards him, just close enough to be intrusive, and clapped him once on the shoulder. Rhys felt his whole body stiffen as Jack’s grip on his shoulder tightened, not enough to hurt, but enough for his muscles to become tense in alarm. He fought to steady his breathing as Jack’s eyes bore into him, suspicion and curiosity both flickering just beneath the surface.

Rhys didn’t miss the smirk on Jack’s face when he finally released him, nor his own reflexive shudder when Jack’s fingertips just barely grazed the curve of his shoulder blade on their way down. Jack turned and begun making his way to the nearest exit, flicking his hand in a half-hearted wave. “See you around, kid. And get those plates changed.”

Rhys silently watched the back of the other man’s head as he walked away, until he finally disappeared from view, the double doors swinging to a close upon his exit.

Vaughn and Yvette accosted him moments later, Vaughn waving his arms frantically as he demanded an in-depth play-by-play of their conversation.

Rhys only half-processed his words, his brain in a stunned haze. What the hell had just happened?

* * *

It was on his third day of work that he first noticed it.

Mistakes in data entry were all too common when dealing with big data, so he initially ignored the stray data points, chalking them up to human error. If it weren’t for his ECHOeye, he may have never noticed the pattern in the anomalies.

When he actually analyzed the numbers, the message hidden within the data was undeniable in its intent.

3 1 14 1 14 25 15 14 20 5 5 18 5

If he matched the numbers to the letters of the alphabet, it spelled out:

C A N A N Y O N E S E E M E

Rhys wondered who at Hyperion would be bored enough to intentionally screw with the data like this. Some lazy programmer, probably.

He flexed his fingers, pondering his response. The obvious reply would be to ask who this person was, but Rhys reconsidered when he realized that this person would probably ask him for his identity too. Eventually, he decided to simply say:

H E L L O


	2. Greed pt. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the lovely [Otohime](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Otohime/pseuds/Otohime) translated [my other Jack/Rhys fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5693530) into Russian. [View it here!](https://ficbook.net/readfic/3993394)
> 
> The song that I listened to a lot while writing this chapter: [Two Door Cinema Club - Cigarettes in the Theatre](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_sERAnqHng)

The first week of Jack’s tenure as Hyperion CEO was unsettlingly quiet. Following the public execution-slash-welcome reception that had marked the end of Rhys’s first day, the atmosphere on Helios had shifted from panicked confusion to a sort of prolonged unease, the air itself crackling with tension. Anxiety levels were so high that even the smallest missteps were enough to cause a scene. On Thursday, Rhys accidentally elbowed his coffee mug off his desk, and the sound of shattering ceramic had so startled the woman next to him that she shrieked at the top of her lungs, loudly enough that it was a wonder the inhabitants of Pandora hadn’t heard it.

Initially, Rhys had assumed that Jack would be a constant physical presence on Helios. He’d half-expected him to pop up at random intervals, mocking and terrorizing anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path. But to Rhys’s own surprise, the man was rarely seen in the flesh. Outside of high-level meetings, he seemed to spend the majority of his time either holed up in his office or on the private floor reserved for executives. The only direct communication they received from Jack was the intermittent, abrupt, and often pointless monologues that filtered down to them from the overhead speakers. His announcements tended to be equal parts amusing and terrifying, the topics ranging from the lack of quality snacks in the vending machines throughout Helios to the public shaming of the most recent goon to earn his ire.

Unfortunately, Jack lording over everyone via the speaker system had sufficiently freaked out middle management to the extent that virtually every department had massive projects dumped onto them all at once. The one thing that made the long hours of coding and data analysis more enjoyable for Rhys were the hidden messages that he was stumbing upon with increasing frequency.

The day after their first interaction, the mysterious stranger left a note for him hidden within a batch of code that he was in the process of QC-ing:

> <!-- hi! i’m surprised you noticed my message -->
> 
> <!-- no one ever does -->
> 
> <!-- btw don’t worry about deleting this text -->
> 
> <!-- i’ll scrub my comments out before anyone else can see :) -->

Rhys cocked his head in curiosity as he scanned through the words a second time. The stranger’s tone was unnervingly friendly for a Hyperion employee—from what he had seen, the dominant forms of communication on Helios were either thinly-veiled threats or opportunistic flattery.

He typed his response on a new line:

> <!-- haha don’t worry, I doubt anyone else even bothers to look at the code this closely -->
> 
> <!-- we’re the only two weirdos who care :’( -->

After the incident with the coffee mug, he found another message a couple hours afterwards that read:

> <!-- if you ask marketing, they’ll give you a free Hyperion coffee tumbler -->
> 
> <!-- they’re ugly but at least they don’t break! -->

He decided to follow the stranger’s advice, which ended up being 100% accurate: the tumblers  _were_ ugly.

On Saturday, he awoke to an email from an unknown sender that simply stated:

> **good morning!**
> 
> nice arm plates :)

Rhys’s eyes reflexively darted to the plates in question, which he had finished reattaching to his arm just minutes prior. The previous night had been the first chance he had gotten all week to finally replace the chrome shell of his cybernetic arm, trading the old black plating, the red accents and glossy sheen fading with age, for more durable yellow and charcoal plates. If he were honest with himself, Rhys kind of preferred the old colors, and the matte finish on his new arm only made the yellow and charcoal look even duller. But Handsome Jack himself had all but ordered him to ditch the outdated plating, and though he doubted that Jack remembered their conversation—or Rhys himself, by extension—he still felt the impulse to do what the other man wanted.

Rhys reread the short email, mouth tugging into a frown as he wondered, not for the first time, what this stranger’s intentions were. The reference to his new arm plates clearly meant that this person knew who he was, but the stranger had given no hints as to his/her (its?) own identity. Why all this secrecy for what had so far amounted to idle small talk?

Deciding to smother his curiosity for the moment, Rhys replied as naturally as he could under the circumstances:

> **RE: good morning**
> 
> haha, thanks. I guess banana yellow is the new black?

Rhys shut off the display as he fully slid off his mattress, feet landing softly onto the plush carpet of his bedroom. He yawned and stretched as he padded through his small apartment, thankful that it was finally the weekend. Not that anyone ever really stopped working at Hyperion, but at least on the weekends, the managers had the decency to allow them to work from home.

He was at his fridge (weighing the benefits of being semi-decent and cooking an omelette for breakfast versus succumbing to his baser instincts and eating a bowl of ice cream) when his train of thought was interrupted by a blinking email alert on the HUD of his ECHOeye. A red exclamation point marked the urgency of the email’s contents.

> **critical leak**
> 
> some dumbass in IT tried to steal a bunch of data from our backup servers. the whole team needs to get to the office ASAP. henderson’s orders.

Rhys groaned dramatically, his whole body seeming to deflate from the news. He hunched forward, his forehead thunking against the freezer door.

One week in and he was already starting to hate this place.

* * *

Ever since meeting Jack (for all of thirty seconds), Rhys sometimes caught himself imagining how their second encounter might unfold. In his mind, he was always the one who approached Jack first, and each time, his courage was rewarded with the other man’s full and undivided attention. The Rhys in his fantasies was wittier, more charming, simply _bigger_ in Jack’s company, as if feeding off the other man’s larger-than-life presence.

But now that Jack was actually in front of him, just a stone’s throw from where he stood, Rhys felt just as dumbstruck and useless as he had the first time he laid eyes on the man. Thankfully, Jack was too busy growling into his comm to notice Rhys gaping at him like a fish, and due to the utter lack of other people in the hallway they were in, Rhys caught the tail end of what seemed to be a long-winded tongue lashing.

“- _could_ do that, sure, just like how I _could_ put a bullet through my own head just end this miserable fucking conversation. I _could_ do whatever the frig’ I want. The reason I pay you, Eric, is to help me decide what I _should_ do.”

Rhys’s heartbeat shuddered in his ears as the distance between them shortened with each of Jack’s long strides. He eyed the enclaves carved out into the walls of the hallway and considered ducking into one for cover. Just as Rhys had begun to tiptoe off to the side, a faint whirring sound, cold and mechanical, stopped him dead in his tracks.

The next moments were lost in a roar. Rhys felt a hailstorm of metal slice through the air itself, so imperceptibly fast that they whistled as they zipped past him, ripping chunks from the floor and walls and absolutely everything they touched. Ahead of him, Jack immediately kicked into action, dodging the neat trail of destruction that lead directly to the spot he had been standing in moments prior. The other man found refuge in an enclave that was just barely within range of the pair of automatic gun turrets that sandwiched them on both ends of the hall, the typically dormant weapons now rapidly spitting bullets and steadily chipping at the walls shielding Jack from certain harm.

Rhys always assumed that, if ever he were in a life or death situation, his perception of time would slow to a crawl, as though every single second became precious currency. Instead, time almost seemed to speed up, too much happening too quickly for Rhys to process it all, his instincts dulled from shock. A discarded bullet casing clinked against the toe of his skag leather boot, the bullet itself landing perilously close to Rhys’s foot. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled his nostrils, and he felt something in his brain click, as though only just recognizing the danger he was in.

He dove to the nearest hiding place, tucking his knees to his chest as he scooted into a sitting position. He peered around the edge of the wall and squinted at the gun turret nearest to him, using his ECHOeye to analyze the weapon subsystems. If he could get into the server that controlled the turrets, he could remotely override the activation command.

A holographic display hovered above his palm, lines of text scrolling across the screen as he manipulated the code as quickly as he could. He had just managed to disable the first turret when he felt an odd sensation, invasive yet somehow gentle. Heat gathered at his neural port, as though the chip inside were on the verge of frying itself, the warmth expanding and coursing down the length of his cybernetic arm like an electric pulse. His ECHOscreen instantly erupted into static the moment the sensation reached his palm, and for a bare instant, Rhys thought he saw a silhouette through the distortion. The image was too fleeting for him to get a good glimpse of it, the screen abruptly shutting off the moment the static had begun to clear.

Rhys belatedly realized that the last remaining turret had shut down at the same time as his screen. He flexed his cybernetic hand, the strange warmth retracing its path up his arm until it faded completely.

Some ways down the hall, he heard Jack mutter a curse before letting out a long, harsh breath of air. Rhys instinctively quieted his own breathing and strained his ears, each little noise seemingly amplified in the sudden silence. He caught the sound of shuffling, then Jack speaking to someone in a low voice, too softly for him to hear.

Rhys’s whole body jerked in surprise when Jack abruptly snarled, “Their names! _Give me their names._ ” The words were followed by the sound of footfalls, headed in his direction, and Rhys huddled further into the corner he was nestled in, half of him hoping that he would escape Jack’s notice and the other half praying for the exact opposite.

To his own deep shame, Rhys let out a startled yelp when he felt a hand roughly clamp down on his shoulder and tug him out from his hiding spot. Their eyes met, Jack’s face now closer than ever, and Rhys was all too conscious of the other man’s breath on his neck, warming his skin.

They simply stood there, staring, for too long a moment. Jack looked calm all the while, but just barely, excitement and righteous fury both vying for dominance in the taut lines of his face.

Finding the silence unbearable, Rhys finally choked out the first thing that came to mind.

“Hi.”

 _Good one, Rhys,_ he mentally berated himself, fighting off the urge to roll his eyes at his own utter inelegance.

It took some time for Jack to show any kind of reaction to his feeble greeting. Eventually, a slow, humorless grin stretched across his mouth. “Hi,” he echoed, his gruff tone making the word sound like a death threat. He released his hold on Rhys, roughly, practically shoving him away.

“Remind me again, cupcake.” Jack’s gaze skirted the length of his body, sizing him up. Rhys thought he might’ve seen Jack’s lips twitch into a smirk, his stare lingering on the plates of his cybernetic arm, but his expression neutralized by the time their eyes met. “What’s your name?”

“Rhys,” he replied quietly, certain that he had never offered his name to the other man before that moment. Not that he was in any hurry to correct his mistaken assumption.

“ _Ah_ ,” Jack said with a quirked brow, his face lighting up in a way that immediately put Rhys on edge. “Just Rhys, right? No last name?”

 _Says the guy who’s “just Jack”_ , was Rhys’s first thought. His second, _how the hell does he know that?_ Instead of vocalizing any of this, he simply nodded. “Just Rhys.” As an afterthought, he added, “Sir.”

Jack snorted derisively, bumping Rhys’s shoulder as he brushed past him. His posture seemed more relaxed now, his shoulders hunching slightly as the muscles there loosened. For a split second, Rhys almost convinced himself he was off the hook—until Jack turned back to face him, peering at Rhys from over his shoulder. “Pick up the pace, kid. It’ll take us the whole day to get there at this rate.”

Rhys broke into a slow jog to catch up with the other man, making sure to maintain a safe distance between them. In the back of his mind, he wondered where “there” was. And what they’d be doing once they arrived. And most of all, why the hell Jack had thought to bring him along.

* * *

“There” turned out to be the mechanical engineering department. And what Jack did was murder the people who had just tried to murder him. As for why Rhys was even there at all: as he watched the bloodbath unfold, he realized that Jack approached violence the same way a pianist would a recital. And every performer needed an audience.

Rhys covered his nose with the cuff of his sleeve, attempting in vain to smother the metallic stench hanging thick in the air. When they had arrived at the lab just minutes earlier, there had been three men cowering in a corner, each sporting hastily built shields. Now, only the apparent leader of the trio remained … though by the looks of it, he would bleed himself dry in the amount of time it would take to reach the infirmary ward.

He had been foolhardy enough to point a combat rifle at Jack, a prototype from the looks of it and one that the engineer clearly did not know how to use. And now the man was crawling on the floor, using his one good arm to desperately drag himself away from the broken, dessicated bodies of his teammates. His other arm hung limply at his side, blood flowing freely from the gash where Jack’s heel had struck several times over, a flash of ivory peeking out from beneath layers of shredded flesh.

Jack watched the man writhe on the floor, eyes cold. “Word of advice, chump,” he said, taking a single step forward. “Don’t try to kill a _king_ inside his own palace.” He held his pistol in a tight grip, raising his arm and aiming the barrel in one fluid motion. It was a clean shot, the bullet passing straight through the man’s skull before embedding itself into the wall. The body slumped over with a sick, wet squelch, his arm twitching once, twice, before finally going still.

Jack holstered his gun at his hip and ran his fingers through his hair, slightly mussing the otherwise immaculate coiffe. “Whew!” he said, shoulders sagging. He rolled his neck and stretched his arms, letting out an exaggerated groan as the exertion caused his stiffened joints to pop. His eyes landed back on Rhys, who reflexively tensed up under the other man’s scrutiny. “Guess we can cross _that_ off our list, huh, kiddo?”

Rhys nodded mutely, unsure of how else to respond. The bottom half of his face was buried in the crook of his arm, the smell of iron now stronger than ever. Jack frowned at him, seemingly disappointed in his reaction. He let out a short sigh before making his way to the exit, footsteps sticky on the blood-smeared floor tiles.

Rhys waited until Jack was a few paces ahead before obediently following his lead, gratefully sucking in a gasp of fresh, clean air when they finally left the confines of the lab. The two of them continued to navigate the maze of halls in the weapons manufacturing wing of Helios, Rhys noting with dark amusement that Jack was literally leaving behind a trail of bloody footprints in his wake. As if the propaganda posters that now papered the walls weren’t territorial enough.

The few people they encountered during their short walk all reacted to the sight of Jack in the exact same way: by standing flat against the walls and making themselves as small as possible, gawking at Jack’s bloodied boots and fists in silent horror.

Eventually, Jack made a sharp turn into a special conference room adjacent to the floor’s main elevator bank, one that was outfitted with special security protocols due to the high-level nature of the meetings that usually took place there. Jack wiped his hands clean on his pants, leaving splotchy red stains on the sides of his legs, before pressing his palm against the scanner at the entrance, the door automatically sliding open as his prints were approved. He typed a code into a keypad beside the scanner before motioning for Rhys to follow him in.

It was easily the biggest conference room Rhys had seen on Helios thus far, large enough to fit at least twenty people. Jack headed straight for the minibar at the back, leaving Rhys to awkwardly wait near the door as he fixed himself a drink. After a moment’s hesitation, Rhys cleared his throat loudly enough for the other man to hear and asked, “Um, sir? I was wondering … How did you find the culprits so quickly?”

Jack froze, back turned to Rhys and freshly opened decanter in hand. He resumed pouring the alcohol into an empty glass before answering, “Getting intel is child’s play on Helios. If someone so much as takes a piss on this space station, I’ll know about it.”

Rhys raised his brows in disbelief. It was a typical megalomaniacal response, really. He should’ve been able to just shrug it off as yet another of Jack’s eccentric declarations. But the firmness and resolve of his tone made Rhys wonder if he was, in fact, fully confident in those words.

Jack took a seat at the head of the long table at the center of the room, gesturing for Rhys to claim the seat at his side. He took a long pull of whiskey, sighing in pleasure before resuming his answer. “For example, aside from learning the names of those three traitorous maggots, I also know that _you_ , Rhysie, tried to disable the turrets on my behalf.” Jack paused to take another sip, eyes trained on Rhys. “Your assistance was totally unneeded, of course, but still. I appreciate the thought. And seeing as how everyone and their mom has been trying to kill me this past week, it’s kinda refreshing that some random little guy like you actually tried to help me out. I mean, I’m not sure _why_ you did it, though I imagine you-” he paused to chuckle, voice low and dangerous, “-are expecting some kind of _reward_ or something. Maybe a nice, fat bonus straight from daddy Jack?”

Jack leaned forward on his elbows, eager and expectant. Rhys gulped nervously, mouth suddenly very dry. He himself wasn’t entirely sure why he had stuck his neck out for a man he barely knew. And Jack was forgetting the fact that Rhys himself had been in danger too—though he got the impression that pointing that out would do him few favors.

Slow and uncertain, Rhys responded, “I didn’t do it for a reward. Protecting you is just the logical thing to do.” When Jack’s eyes narrowed in curiosity, Rhys hastily added, “I mean, the way things are right now, there’s no stability. Hyperion’s right in the middle of a huge transition, and any other big disruptions could set the company back for years. We need a center. And right now … that center is you.”

Rhys’s nerves fluttered as a smile crept onto Jack’s lips, his eyes glimmering with interest. “Hell yeah I am.” Jack raised his glass, as though toasting to his words, before taking another swig. He stood up from his seat and paced around the perimeter of the table, brows furrowed in thought.

After a lengthy silence, he turned to Rhys, spreading his arms wide. “I’m in a good mood, so let me give you a piece of hard-earned wisdom, straight from Handsome Jack.” He paused dramatically, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “There’s only one thing you need to know to rule a corporation like Hyperion, and it’s this: everyone, no matter if it’s a money-grubbing stockbroker or a freakin’ saint, _everyone_ at their core is a selfish sack of shit.”

Jack slammed his glass down with a decisive clink, the liquid contents sloshing onto the table’s glossy surface. He smirked, apparently enjoying the mixture of amusement and confusion on Rhys’s face. “Once you accept that, then it’s just a matter of using it to your advantage. Don’t just toss compliments around like a loser; put the fear of God in them first, _then_ throw them a bone if they manage to not screw up. That way, they’ll know your opinion is actually worth a damn. And if you do it well enough, everyone’ll be pissing themselves at the chance to do your bidding.”

Rhys looked down at his hands, processing the words. He couldn’t say he agreed with the other man’s philosophy. But looking at how much Hyperion had already changed in one short week, it certainly seemed to be working in Jack’s favor.

“So,” Jack said, drawing Rhys’s attention back to him, “No reward, huh? Just helping out ol’ Jack for the good of the company?”

Carefully, Rhys replied, “If you offered me a bonus, I wouldn’t refuse it.”

Jack blinked in surprise before allowing a laugh, one oddly lacking in bite, to spill from his lips. “Atta boy,” he said with a grin, hands on his hips. “Who do you work for, kid? Is it Bradley?”

Rhys shook his head. “I’m in Information Security. Henderson’s team.”

“ _Henderson?_ ” The name prompted another laugh. “No. Nononononono _no_. Forget the bonus, man. You’re getting a badass _promotion_.”

Now it was Rhys’s turn to blink in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me. Information Security should be run by someone who, you know, actually knows how to secure things. Whereas Henderson probably struggles to keep track of his friggin’ lockscreen password.”

Jack downed the remaining whiskey in his glass, momentarily leaving Rhys to his thoughts. He wondered if climbing the corporate ladder could honestly be this easy. Was getting on the CEO’s good side really all it took?

“Congratulations, kiddo.” Jack carelessly slid his emptied glass across the width of the table, halting just short of Rhys’s folded hands. “Don’t make me regret this.”

He rounded the corners of the table and stopped right at the foot of Rhys’s chair, staring down at him. Rhys couldn’t quite bring himself to look the other man in the eye, his gaze only reaching the metal clasp on Jack’s chin.

He gasped in shock when Jack suddenly tugged at his hair, pulling his bangs backwards and forcing his head to tilt up at a slightly uncomfortable angle. Jack’s grip on his hair stung enough that he felt tears prickling at the edges of his widened eyes.

“You should push your hair back more often, Rhysie.” Jack tugged once more for emphasis. A dark emotion slithered across his features and Rhys felt his throat constrict in response to it. “With a face like yours, you should be showing off every inch.”

And just like that, Jack released his hair and exited the room, tossing him a mumbled “see ya, kiddo” right before the door shut behind him.

Rhys let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in. _Lord have mercy_ , he thought as he rubbed at his cheeks with the palms of his hands, hoping the friction would somehow make the pink glow fade from his skin.

Privately, he made a mental note to add hair gel to his shopping list.

* * *

As Rhys made his way back to his apartment, he finally checked the fifteen emails that had piled up while he was on his little adventure with Jack. Fourteen of them were from his teammates, and the contents were essentially different variations of “where the hell are you” and “henderson’s gonna kick your ass for ditching work today”.

If Jack was to be believed, then Henderson was the least of his worries now.

The very last email was from the unknown sender, and he could see the entirety of the message in the email preview:

> **are you okay?**
> 
> did jack do anything to you?

Rhys sighed, wondering how gossip on Helios always managed to spread so fast. He sent a quick reassuring reply, and then went to his ECHOscreen settings to shut his email alerts off for good, deciding to finally treat himself to a well-deserved bowl of ice cream. Right as he was about to turn the notifications off, he received an email from HR, congratulating him on his promotion.

Rhys stared at it for a long, long while, the reality of his situation fully sinking in. He thought of his teammates. He thought of Henderson.

And most of all, he thought of Handsome Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _“Word of advice, chump,” Jack said, taking a single step forward. “You come at the king , you best not miss.”_
> 
>  
> 
> :P


	3. Lust pt.I

Within the first few hours of Rhys’s first official day as department head, he noticed that everyone who learned of his promotion seemed to react to it in four stages. So far, Vaughn and Yvette were proving to be no exception.

  1. Disbelief:  
  
“I guess that Hyperion dry wit and sarcasm is really rubbing off on you, huh?” Vaughn said with a strained chuckle. “But seriously, how was your weekend?”
  2. Outrage:  
  
“You’ve only been here a _week_.” Yvette stabbed at the center of his chest with a manicured finger, jabbing him hard enough to bruise. “How the _hell_ could you have gotten a promotion after _one week_?”  
  
“Seriously, dude.” Vaughn crossed his arms, frowning. “Who did you have to kill to make that happen?”
  3. Despair:  
  
“Four years,” Vaughn said, voice muffled as he buried his face into his palms. “I had to work here for _four years_ before I finally got promoted to a finance specialist. At this rate, I’ll be forty by the time I get a management position.”  
  
Yvette managed to sum up her feelings in three words. “This is bullshit.”
  4. Acceptance:  
  
Vaughn sighed, using his fork to poke at the lone meatball on his otherwise empty plate. “Well, if some guy tried to save _my_ life, I’d give him a promotion too.” In a hushed tone, he added, “And considering how much Handsome Jack seems to love himself, I’m guessing he values his life, like, at least twice as much as I value mine.”



Yvette stared Rhys dead in the eye, her own half-finished plate of food left alarmingly untouched. “I’m not so sure it’s that simple. From what I’ve seen, it takes a lot to get Jack’s attention. And yet Rhys here has managed to schmooze with the guy twice in one week.” She slumped back into her seat, regarding him with a cocked brow. “So, what’s your secret?”

Rhys smiled, a little uneasily. He, frankly, had been wondering the exact same thing the whole morning. “I’m guessing it’s just my quirky charm and boyish good looks.” Rhys cut off his laughter with a strained cough when his response was met with a glare.

“Joke all you want for now, Rhys.” Yvette’s voice sounded flat and restrained, as though she were consciously keeping her tone level. “But you should take things more seriously from here on out. You’ve seen what Jack’s capable of, how he treats people. Are you sure that’s a guy you want to be rubbing elbows with?”

Secretly, Rhys thought that he’d like to rub more than just Jack’s elbows. He instantly pushed the thought to the furthest corners of his mind, ducking his head and massaging the back of his neck to distract from the sudden tint to his cheeks. “If I were to be friendly with anyone on Helios, shouldn’t it be Jack? I mean, yeah, he isn’t exactly the nicest guy around-” Vaughn interjected with an amused snort. “-But are any of us? I mean, we’re _Hyperion_. I might not be totally up-to-date with intergalactic affairs, but I’m pretty sure we’re not the good guys.”

Yvette continued judging him with a quiet intensity. Calm and deliberate, she replied, “People aren’t just good or evil. There’s more complexity to it, more shades of gray.” She leaned forward and rested her weight onto the tabletop, her loosely folded arms bumping against the edge of her lunch tray. “But a guy like Jack? I get the feeling he’s as bad as bad gets. Are you really sure you’re ready to deal with someone like that?”

Rhys opened his mouth, but the words escaped him. He didn’t know if he was ready, but he thought he might be. It certainly wouldn’t be his first time dancing with death.

Yvette’s posture loosened as the silence stretched on. She stood up with a sigh, chair scraping across the floor and tray clutched between her fingers. “Well, if everything goes to hell, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Rhys heard the staccato clicks of her tall heels grow fainter and fainter until the sound was lost completely in the chatter surrounding them. Vaughn cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“For what it’s worth,” he pushed the metal frame of his glasses up the bridge of his nose and beamed at him with a nervous, but eager smile, “I think it’d be awesome if you actually pull this off. I mean, the only people who have real power in this place are the ones who assassinated someone or who are friends with a person who assassinated someone. May as well pick the latter.”

Rhys smiled in return before finishing his meal in silence, Yvette’s parting words weighing heavily on his mind.

* * *

Rhys quickly realized that being department head was much less glamorous than he had initially expected. If anything, it was only slightly less of a grind than his previous position had been. He did spend a large chunk of his days in meetings now, but most nights were spent holed up in his office reviewing the work of his subordinates or drafting reports in preparation for the next day’s meetings.

There were definite perks to the position, though. Like the automatic respect and envy of his entire department, for one. He also now had security clearance for some of the limited access recreational areas on the upper floors of Helios. (The indoor hot springs facility was _definitely_ his favorite.) Not to mention the view of Elpis from his office window was pretty damn cool.

Sometimes late at night, when he was particularly loopy and over-caffeinated, he would dim the lights and use his swivel chair to roll from one side of the office to the other, as if attempting to view the moon from different angles.

But one perk left conspicuously absent was that, despite their encounters during his first week, Jack didn’t seem any more accessible to him now than when he was just a regular office grunt. Rhys’s meetings were always with other department heads rather than executives, and on the rare occasion that an executive did attend one of his meetings, it was _never_ the CEO himself.

So when the name Handsome Jack popped up in Rhys’s inbox, he stopped typing his budget report mid-sentence and immediately gifted the email with his full attention.

> **Fwd: You are cordially invited to The Eye…**
> 
> hey kiddo. consider yourself my date to the party. try to wear something halfway decent.

The forwarded message beneath was an email he vaguely remembered glancing at earlier that day. It was an invitation—and judging by the overly formal tone, one clearly written by an executive assistant—for an after hours party celebrating the completed installation of the Eye.

All other construction on Helios had been halted for nearly four long months as Jack threw all their resources towards the Eye’s completion. Rhys had never been briefed on its exact function, but considering the amount of energy required to sustain it, as well as the fact that it was very purposefully designed to face Pandora at all times, and its intended use went without saying.

Now that he was looking at the invitation more carefully, unlike typical company gatherings, _this_ party had Jack’s fingerprints all over it. It was being hosted at the Apollo, easily the ritziest bar outside the uppermost levels of Helios. The name of the event itself was a dead giveaway: The “Eye” Better Go To This Awesome A** Party.

Rhys’s eyes wandered back over to Jack’s note at the top of the email and hovered on the words “my date”, which he tried (and failed) to refrain from obsessing over. It probably meant nothing—just another one of his jabs, a small bit of mockery that he threw in on a whim.

But then again. Would Jack go out of his way to personally message him about the party unless he really did want him to show up?

Rhys closed his report, navigating to the Helios shopping network instead. To hell with balancing his department’s quarterly budget; he had an outfit to buy.

* * *

Rhys anxiously ran a hand through his slicked back hair as he pushed past the Apollo’s double paneled wooden doors, the hidden scanner beeping with a friendly green light to signal its approval of him. The second the doors cracked open, he was immediately hit with the noise of a dozen conversations happening at once, the loud murmuring overlaying a thumping bass from the sound system.

Rhys’s brows perked up at the music. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but a club beat sure wasn’t it. He surveyed the surprisingly large and bustling crowd, recognizing faces here and there. Most of the other department heads were in attendance, as well as, to Rhys’s surprise, a couple immaculately dressed gentleman who he recognized to be board members.

He spotted Jack towards the back of the bar, near a tall window overlooking the frozen wastes of Pandora, the ice sheet stretching across the planet’s surface like an inky white blotch on desert sand. In direct contrast to the designer clothing donned by virtually everyone else in the room, Jack had clearly dressed down for the event, a ratty yellow sweater peeking out from beneath his beige vest. At least he had bothered to throw on a decent suit jacket on top.

He appeared to be in the middle of a tense conversation with the VP of Sales, a man named Chaz who Rhys had the immense displeasure of meeting on a couple occasions. Judging by the smug, greasy smile on Chaz’s face and the manic, toothy grin on Jack’s, Rhys half-expected the two men to start throttling each other at any moment.

Rhys’s gaze drifted away from Jack and instead landed on the crowded bar in the opposite corner of the room. He made his way towards it, deciding that a little liquid courage would do wonders in helping him to approach Jack once more.

His eyes widened when the bartender served him a multicolored cocktail, the red and blue hues glowing faintly in the dim lighting. It tasted as expensive as it looked, the deceptive sweetness obscuring the potency of the drink.

He had just sipped the last drop from the blue layer when from the corner of his eyes, he saw Jack slide onto the stool next to his. “Well, _look_ at you, cupcake.” Jack’s eyes roamed the length of his body appreciatively, lingering on his legs a few beats too long. Rhys inwardly preened—he had requested that his suit be tailored to hug his curves _just_ so, and judging by Jack’s leering, it was money well spent.

Jack motioned at the bartender, his eyes only straying for a second before finding their way back to Rhys. “Someone certainly cleans up nice.”

Rhys took another sip before flashing what he hoped was a winning smile, faking confidence in the absence of the real thing. “I figured I should put some effort in. Seeing as how this is our first date and all.”

His response drew a low chuckle from Jack, the man’s eyes glittering with delight. He gestured to Rhys’s half-empty glass and said, “The night’s just started and I already missed my chance to buy you a drink. Granted, all the booze is on the house tonight, courtesy of yours truly. But … you know.”

Rhys raised his glass to his lips, fixing the other man with a sly smile. “There’ll be other opportunities.” To make his point, he tipped the drink into his mouth, swallowing the remaining liquid in one gulp.

By the time he realized his mistake, it was far too late. The blue layer had been a light, refreshing mint flavor. The red layer, on the other hand, felt like lava masquerading as alcohol. Tears instantly sprung to the corners of his eyes as the liquid burned down his throat and filled his nostrils, overwhelming his senses. He doubled over as he choked out a hacking cough, hand balled into a loose fist over his mouth. His face was hot, either from the alcohol or from utter humiliation. Just when he thought he couldn’t feel any worse, he heard Jack cackle hysterically before slapping him on the back, prompting yet another coughing fit.

“Bit off more than you could chew there, huh, pumpkin?” Jack sniggered. He motioned for the bartender once more, grinning as he added, “Let’s get you something more on your level. Maybe an appletini?”

Rhys used his sleeve to dab the moisture from his eyes. “...Just order a gin and tonic.”

It took a couple minutes for Rhys to fully recover, but once he did, he felt surprisingly at ease. Jack did much of the talking, to the surprise of no one, but the man was so effortlessly entertaining that he could read the dictionary cover-to-cover and Rhys would’ve still clung to his every word.

The two of them knocked back drink after drink, Rhys wisely sticking to gin and tonic for the rest of the night. Jack only ever ordered whiskey shots, though Rhys had the sneaking suspicion that he chose whiskey only so that he could tell the bartender “get me a shot of Jack” before laughing at his own joke.

By the fourth or fifth round of drinks, they had gotten onto the topic of an executive summit Jack had recently attended, his mood souring the moment Rhys mentioned a certain competitor of theirs.

“Can you believe _Torgue_ had the gall to say that I talk too much? I dunno if you’ve met the guy, but he isn’t exactly a wellspring of brevity and tact.” Jack paused to down another shot, shaking his head and letting out a long, drawn out breath. “If anything, I’m way less of an open book than Torgue’s dumb, loud ass. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a bit of theatricality now and then-” Rhys nodded. He had definitely noticed. “-But you can’t just lay all your cards out for the whole damn world to see. You gotta keep a sense of mystery about you, y’know? Show just enough to keep the masses interested, but not so much that they can actually get a read on you.”

Rhys wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol that loosened his tongue or the fact that he had somehow managed to keep Jack’s attention for this long, but before he had a chance to catch himself, he blurted, “I dunno about that. I think you show your hand more often than you realize.”

Instantly, Jack’s whole demeanor changed, all traces of affability gone from his face. “Do I now?” Rhys knew, instinctively, that the smile Jack now wore was a dangerous one. “Care to give me an example, sweetheart?”

Rhys gulped nervously, discerning from the other man’s tone alone that he had fucked up. If there were such a thing as a verbal minefield, he had just landed himself into one. “Well,” he began, choosing his words carefully, “Your actions say a lot about you. Even when you … kill someone, _how_ you killed them says a lot about the relationship you had with that person.” He trailed off, gauging the other man’s reaction.

Jack’s brow ticked in annoyance. “Such as?” he snapped, impatiently gesturing for him to continue.

“Like … well, there’s the people you killed in the ballroom on my first night here. I didn’t even know their names, but I could tell that you didn’t really give a shit about them. I mean, you didn’t even kill them yourself. Whereas with Tassiter-” Jack’s grimaced at the mere mention of his name. “-You could’ve just shot him, but instead you strangled him with your bare hands. So I think killing Tassiter must’ve been personal for you, somehow.”

Rhys sat stock still once he finished, barely even allowing himself the luxury of breathing. He had no idea what to expect. For all he knew, Jack would confirm his theory right then and there by whipping his gun out and shooting him to death.

Finally, Jack replied, “You’re absolutely right, Rhysie. Tassiter had always been a complete jackass to me. I was glad to be the one to kill him.” The menace had mostly seeped from his voice. Rhys nearly sighed with relief, except he noticed that another kind of tension seemed to take its place, one that he didn’t quite recognize.

Jack slid off from his stool and closed the already small gap between them, leaning in much too close for comfort. Rhys’s breath reflexively hitched as he felt Jack’s palm rest against the side of his throat, thumb lightly pressing into the bump of his Adam’s apple. “I gotta say, I’m almost impressed. You’re quite the little mind reader, aren’t you?” His eyes trailed downwards to the spot where his thumb met the pale curve of Rhys’s throat.

Rhys let out a shaky breath as Jack’s hand left his neck, calloused fingers tracing the delicate curve of his collarbone before grabbing the knot of his silk tie and giving it a sharp tug. Jack leaned even further in, close enough that Rhys could smell the whiskey on his breath. “So, Rhysie. Do you know what I’m thinking about _right now_?”

Rhys stared deep into Jack’s eyes, finally seeing the desire lurking in his mismatched gaze. Gathering his courage, he lifted his hand to Jack’s face, the pads of his fingers brushing the cheek of his mask. It was cool to the touch.

“Yeah,” Rhys replied, voice shaky. “I think I do.”

His only warning was a low rumble from Jack’s throat before he was pulled from his seat, the two of them drawing odd stares as Jack lead him across the bar, tie in fist. Like a pet on a short leash.

He dragged him to a narrow hallway at the back, the left side of the hall dotted with small open spaces, more like booths than proper rooms. Jack turned into the booth furthest down the hall, which was occupied by a trio of people, one of whom Rhys recognized as a fellow department head. Rhys gave her an awkward little wave just before Jack barked, “Get out.” The trio swiftly scattered, spilling their drinks in their haste to exit.

Once cleared, Jack roughly shoved him inside, Rhys’s palms slapping against the varnished wood lining the inside of the booth, barely saving him from the embarrassment of faceplanting into the wall. Jack’s hands were on him in an instant, wrapping around him from behind and slipping beneath his jacket to feel him through the thin fabric of his dress shirt. A small whining noise escaped his lips, unbidden, his body shuddering violently under Jack’s sudden, shameless groping. In his ear, he heard the other man hiss, “Let it _all_ out, baby. I want to hear every little sound that comes out of your mouth.”

As if on cue, Rhys let out a startled cry as Jack bit into the tender flesh of his neck at the same moment his fingers found his nipple, Jack pinching the nub between his thumb and forefinger. He tried in vain to steady his erratic breathing, the rhythmic beating from the music seeming louder than ever now. He could feel the thrumming of the bass beneath his palms, the walls vibrating from the sheer force of it.

Jack’s roaming hands continued their path downwards, easily finding the growing tent at the front of his pants. Jack cupped him experimentally, and Rhys eagerly bucked into his invasive touch, desperate for more contact. Rhys felt Jack grin against the back of his neck as he palmed him through his pants, the other man's movements growing rougher and more daring with each moan that passed through his lips.

Rhys leaned into the warm body behind him, pleasure singing through his veins, and pressed his ass against Jack’s groin, rubbing at the man's half-hard bulge with the dip between his cheeks. He heard a sharp intake of breath as Jack’s erection noticeably swelled, and Rhys felt pride burn in his chest at being able to elicit such a reaction from a man like this.

Rhys’s orgasm was abrupt, short, and barely satisfying, a damp spot quickly forming at the front of his slacks. It was probably the fastest he had cum for someone else, ever, and if it were anyone other than Jack, he would’ve felt pathetic.

He felt a twinge of disappointment when Jack unwrapped his arms and stepped away from him, the warmth leaving his back. He tensed once more when he heard a rustling, followed by the distinct sound of a fly zipper being undone, somehow audible even through the pounding music overhead. Rhys peeked over his shoulder, eyes going huge upon seeing Jack pull his now fully erect cock from his undergarments, sighing as he gave himself a long, slow stroke. He smirked as his half-lidded eyes met Rhys’s widened ones. “What, you just gonna gawk at it all day long? This problem ain’t gonna fix itself, honey.”

Rhys faced the other man fully and dropped to his knees without a second thought. He curled the fingers of his flesh hand around the base of the shaft, his cybernetic hand grasping at Jack’s hip to help anchor him. After a moment’s hesitation, he tentatively licked at the precum dribbling from the tip, the head twitching almost cutely in response. Rhys allowed himself a small smile before wrapping his lips around Jack, fully tasting the other man on his tongue.

Jack’s breaths grew noticeably harsher as Rhys sucked him, slowly and deliberately, mouth straining against his girth. He struggled to take Jack deeper inside him, his throat fighting against the penetration. Suddenly, he felt Jack fist his hair, fingers violently pulling at the delicately styled locks. The unexpected pain broke his concentration, triggering his gag reflex and causing him to sputter and choke against the other man’s dick. He struggled against Jack’s grip on his hair, pulling far enough away that the head no longer pressed against his throat, but Jack’s hold over him prevented Rhys from retreating any further.

The both of them stayed like that for several moments, Rhys breathing through his nose as he recovered. He shyly peered up at Jack and was surprised to see the other man staring back down at him, a darkly amused smile gracing his lips. Without breaking eye contact, Rhys bobbed his head, relaxing his throat and taking his cock even further into him. This time, he managed not to gag even when Jack gently thrust into his mouth, fingers now tenderly threading through his hair, silently urging him on.

Jack came with a groan and a shadow of a smile, eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration, as though focusing his energy into maximizing all the pleasure he felt at that moment. Rhys swallowed every last drop that flowed into his mouth, the salty spurts only causing his ravaged throat to feel even rawer. His wet lips disconnected with a slick pop, a single strand of saliva bridging his bottom lip to the head of Jack’s cock before it eventually collapsed.

Rhys remained on his knees, seemingly in a trance, as Jack tucked himself back in. “Whew!” he said as he casually stretched his arms, appearing for all the world as though he had just finished a workout at the gym or something equally banal. He smirked as he gave Rhys a quick pat on the head. “Good job, kid. That just about made my day.”

Rhys took the underwhelming compliment as a signal for him to finally stand, knees already sore from being pressed too long against the hardwood floor. Jack winked and gave him another congratulatory pat on the back before exiting with a flippant wave of his hand and a muttered “see you around.”

Once he was sure Jack was gone, Rhys collapsed into a seat fixed onto the side of the booth, burying his head in his hands. _What the fuck am I doing_ , he asked himself, knowing that no answer to the question would provide him solace.

* * *

He returned to his apartment shortly afterwards, throwing himself onto his mattress the moment he was within reach of it, soiled clothes and all. He opened his ECHOscreen and idly scrolled through his inbox, hoping for a momentary distraction from the thoughts swirling through his head. His eyes narrowed in on his most recent exchange with the unknown sender, who remained just as mysterious to him now as they had been months ago, when the two of them first interacted.

Even now, it was always the stranger who reached out to him first. But considering what had just transpired, Rhys decided it was as good a time as any to break their routine.

> **random question**
> 
> out of curiosity, what do you think of jack?

Rhys was surprised to receive a response so soon after he sent the email. He noted the time on the HUD of his ECHOeye and wondered if this person ever slept.

> **RE: random question**
> 
> I try to think about him as little as possible. why do you ask?

He frowned at the message and the undercurrent of hostility in the stranger’s words. To his memory, this was the first time the stranger had openly expressed a negative opinion of another person.

> **RE: random question**
> 
> I dunno. I guess I like him more than I should.

The word “like” seemed far too juvenile to express his feelings, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of anything more fitting. He received the reply only seconds later.

> **RE: random question**
> 
> do you trust him?

Rhys stared at the question till the words burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that Jack had done nothing to earn his trust. Respect, yes, but trust? Trust was a different beast altogether, and one that Rhys was rarely willing to face. Logically, he knew this.

> **RE: random question**
> 
> I’m not sure. but I think I want to.

When Rhys didn’t receive an immediate reply, he knew he wouldn’t be getting one at all. He undid his tie, remembering the way Jack had fingered its knot not too long before. He then laid in bed and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to fall into what would certainly be a restless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _When the name Handsome Jack popped up in Rhys's inbox, he stopped typing his budget report mid-sentence and immediately gifted the email with his full attention._
>
>> **a/s/l?**  
>  _hollaback if you wanna cyber_  
>  _p.s. send a dick pic plz_  
> 
> 
>   
>  Song for this chapter: [Porter Robinson - Divinity](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=si81bIoZRJQ)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [bell](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) ❤ 


	4. Lust pt.II

The mass unearthing of Pandora’s eridium mines hit Hyperion like a lightning storm. If Rhys had thought the company was flourishing within the first few months of Jack’s takeover, the success they experienced then seemed modest compared to the palpable energy and excitement that seemed to electrify the air itself once eridium began flowing into their collective coffers like liquid cash. Hyperion’s drills fractured Pandora’s dry, packed earth with uncanny accuracy, as if someone amongst them had pinpointed the exact, precise spots to dig—and Rhys thought he had a good guess as to who that someone might be.

As if the eridium itself weren’t enough, slag, which was initially mistaken as simple toxic waste, had in recent months been transformed to  _weaponized_ toxic waste, and for weeks, Jack had taken to Helios’s communal speaker system to herald each and every development in the slag’s integration with their newest line of guns. Around that time, Rhys had managed a glimpse of Hyperion’s five-year revenue projection at a budgetary meeting, and the upwards curve was so ridiculously steep that the graph may as well have been a straight, vertical line.

While the company as a whole underwent grandiose, sweeping reform, Rhys had begun to implement smaller, quieter changes of his own. As time went on, he had noticed the many security holes in Helios’s ECHOnet system. Individually, the problems were small enough that they could reasonably be ignored, but the years of neglect and poor data management had strung the countless small errors into one giant, unwieldy web. With his department’s current resources, it would take years to up-heave and fix everything they needed to.

With the work piling up on all fronts, as the months flew by, Rhys had unwittingly fallen into an exhausting, yet comfortable routine. Gradually, the other department heads had accepted him into their fold, and at least on a superficial level, he had managed to strike up a friendly rapport with almost all of them. His days were mostly a blur of meetings broken up by long stretches of time spent sorting through the literal hundreds of emails that now flooded his inbox on a daily basis.

The only notable breaks to his routine were his occasional, fleeting encounters with Jack. The other man had a tendency of crashing into his life like a meteor shower: both were rarely-sighted, glorious to behold, and made him feel tiny and insignificant by comparison.

Against his better judgment, Rhys had agreed to have a few other … illicit rendezvous with Jack in the months following the party that had marked the Eye’s completion. Their hookups were the only decent bit of action Rhys had gotten on Helios thus far, and so he had gone to great pains to commit every moment to memory. Especially the time Jack had gotten the particularly inspired idea to meet at a private sauna— _that_ one he still recalled in lurid detail.

Rhys shook his head to pull his mind out of the gutter, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. There was less than half an hour before his weekly meeting with the other department heads, and this particular meeting required a great deal more prep work than usual. The primary item on the agenda was to set the new quarterly goals for each department, with eridium mining and research as the central axis around which all their goals would revolve.

Rhys had felt decently prepared, until exactly an hour prior, when he was informed via email that the Chief Technology Officer would be sitting in on their discussion. It would be his first time meeting such a high-level executive in-person (not including Jack, for obvious reasons), and so he was now obsessively poring through his report, ensuring that every line was perfect.

He frowned as he received yet another email notification, the icon on the HUD of his ECHOscreen cheerily informing him that another twenty emails had trickled in during the time spent reviewing the report. Just when he had managed to divert his attention away from his steadily growing pile of emails, a second notification came in. And then a third. And a fourth.

Curiosity piqued, Rhys warily clicked into his inbox, half-expecting for some crisis to have descended upon his department. His brows shot up in surprise upon noting that all the most recent messages were from the unknown sender, each with the word “URGENT” as the subject.

Seven such emails now sat at the top of his inbox. It was the first time Rhys had heard from his mystery penpal all week, and he felt more than a little alarmed at their sudden shift in tone. After a moment’s hesitation, he closed his screen and turned his attention back to the report, silently promising to read through the emails once he was free.

Rhys glanced at the time, noting that there were only about twenty minutes left till the meeting. He stood up from his desk and moved to gather his things, but froze when a soft, melodic, and altogether unfamiliar voice called out to him.

“Rhys.”

Slowly, Rhys craned his neck and peeked over his shoulder, feeling both relief and confusion upon confirming that no one had snuck into his office while his back had been turned.

“Don’t be alarmed.”

There was a familiar warmth gathering at his temple, the heat most concentrated at the area surrounding his neural port. The voice seemed to be internally transmitted, as though this person were somehow speaking directly into his mind. It was an odd, but not wholly unpleasant sensation.

“My apologies,” the voice continued. “I wanted to avoid contacting you directly, but … I’m in a bit of a pickle.”

Rhys only half-listened to the words, his mind preoccupied with the question of what, exactly, was happening to him. When he finally responded, it was in a hushed tone, despite the total emptiness of his immediate surroundings. “How … how are you doing this? And who are you?”

There was a long pause, and Rhys could hear a note of hesitation when she (it?) next spoke. “I’ll explain as much as I can, and soon. I _promise_. But right now, we need to deal with the data breach in Helios’s ECHOnet servers.”

“The _what_?” Rhys immediately opened his inbox, but saw no messages about a breach from anyone in his department. “Are you sure?”

“Believe me, I’m sure.” He could hear a smile in her voice, apparently amused by some private joke. “I only just noticed it a few minutes ago. Normally, I can handle these on my own, but whoever’s doing this has a _lot_ of resources. They’re hitting multiple servers, and they’re doing it quietly.” She paused before admitting, “One of them even managed to steal administrator privileges.”

 _Well, fuck_ , Rhys thought with an inwards grimace. He jolted his computer awake, using it in combination with his ECHOscreen to check the servers’ backend. His eyes widened upon observing the minute manipulations in code, each change occurring in real-time. The hacker even erased their digital footprint immediately after each action, so quickly and skillfully that it nearly escaped his notice, even with his activated ECHOeye.

He immediately sent a critical alert to all team leads and administrators in his department, ordering them to make the data breach their topmost priority for the remainder of the day.

“Thanks,” Rhys said once he was finished, smiling at an empty room. “I don’t know how much the intruders have already taken, but it would’ve been way worse if you hadn’t told me immediately.”

“It’s my pleasure. Really.” The apparent sincerity of the words only made Rhys all the more curious as to this person’s identity. Was she really Hyperion? “With your team’s help, I’m pretty sure I can manage things from here. And if you run, you should still be able to make it to your meeting on time.”

Rhys leapt out of his chair at the reminder, noting the time on his computer screen. He hurriedly grabbed at his materials and broke into a sprint, barely catching the murmured “bye, Rhys” as he wrenched his office door open. The warmth at his neural port gradually faded as he made his way through the halls of Helios, leaving him with more questions than ever before.

* * *

Considering the culture at Hyperion, Rhys had naturally assumed that all the top-ranking executives would be like watered down versions of Jack. Bradley, the CTO, turned out to be anything but.

The first surprise was how young he was for someone so near the top of the company hierarchy (just a decade older than Rhys himself, according to his ECHOeye readings), his dark skin unblemished by age and the short curls of his hair still a vibrant shade of midnight black. His smile at least _seemed_ genuine, though Rhys knew better than to take anyone on Helios at face value.

The head of marketing, an overly-energetic woman named Maddie, had been in the middle of a rather colorful presentation on the advertising campaign for their newest line of slag-enhanced shotguns, when Bradley abruptly excused himself to take a call on his comm. The presentation was reluctantly put on hold, all attendees eyeing the exec in anticipation when he returned a few moments later, his easy demeanor slipping into something far more subdued.

Bradley reclaimed his seat and steepled his fingers, his gaze sweeping across the room. “I know that saying this is likely wasted effort,” he began, a disarming smile gracing his lips, “But try not to panic. Handsome Jack has some business with a few people at this meeting, myself included. He’s heading down here as we speak.”

The silence hung so heavily that Rhys thought he could feel its oppressive weight looming over the entire room. To his right, someone made a terrified little squeaking noise, which was followed by a panicked shuffling as Maddie hurriedly closed her presentation, all prior enthusiasm thoroughly snuffed out.

The room collectively bristled when the door opened with a violent burst, the doorknob ricocheting off the wall from the excessive force. Jack strode in with a slow gait, stance wide and hands settled on his hips. He barely glanced around the room before announcing, “Bradley, Rhys, Pamela: stay. Everyone else: _out_.”

“Pamela” was actually named Priscilla, but as expected, the mistake went uncorrected. Those who had been spared all fled their seats a little too quickly and formed a neat single-file line, exiting as quietly and unobtrusively as possible.

When only the four of them remained, Jack kicked the door close with the toe of his boot and begun pacing about the back of the room, eyes darting between the table’s three remaining occupants. From the periphery of his vision, Rhys could see Priscilla fidgeting, looking like a bundle of wired nerves. In stark contrast, Bradley appeared mostly calm, betrayed only by the tightly clenched fist resting atop the meeting table.

Priscilla physically jumped in her seat when Jack slammed his palms against the table, leaving the surface rattling for a moment afterwards. “ _So_ ,” he said, elongating the vowel as he scanned the mostly empty room, “Anyone want to tell me how the fuck Dahl got their dirty little paws on the Projectile Diversification blueprints?”

Oh, Rhys thought, every muscle in his body tensing in warning. _Oh_.

“Luckily for us,” Jack continued, “The mindless schmucks working for Dahl were too stupid to grab the most recent version of the files. But if _those_ morons were still able to steal _our_ stuff, then it doesn’t exactly bode well for the future.”

Bradley’s eyes briefly flickered towards Rhys before returning to Jack. “If it’s just Dahl, then I doubt we have anything to worry about. They were likely targeting the eridium mining plans, but came up short. And Priscilla, correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe Dahl lacks the resources to even replicate our older shotgun models.”

Priscilla perked up, her back so uncomfortably straight that her spine could have been replaced with a metal rod and Rhys wouldn’t have noticed the difference. “Yes, sir, exactly. Our competitor analysis shows that Dahl’s limited access to the shipping routes in our neighboring galaxies blocks them from obtaining high quality-”

“Yeah, no shit,” Jack spat out with a scowl, causing Priscilla to wilt in defeat. “Like I don’t already know what the damn competitor analysis says. What I _do_ want to know is how the hell they got inside in the first place.” Rhys froze when Jack’s pointed gaze tore away from Priscilla and landed on him instead. “And here I thought we, you know, had _a whole freakin’ department_ dedicated to preventing this shit from happening. That ringing any bells for you?”

Rhys swallowed thickly as Jack’s gaze burned into this. The man now before him lacked the magneticism and dark allure of the Jack that Rhys had grown accustomed to seeing. _This_ Jack meant business.

He cleared his throat. “Well … sir,” he began, feeling his anxiety prickle when the word ‘sir’ only made Jack’s eyes narrow further, “From what I’ve seen, our internal security systems were kind of ... not properly managed for a long time. Probably for years. There’s a ton of holes, and the Dahl hackers were hitting every one of them.” When Jack’s brow creased in apparent irritation, Rhys hastily added, “I’ve started implementing a plan that’ll fix everything, but considering how much our systems have scaled in the past few years, it might take some time.”

Jack continued to stare him down in silence, a hard look on his otherwise unreadable face. Bradley mercifully chose that moment to chime in, gently prodding Rhys with his suggestions. “Could you explain your plan to us? In as much detail as you can. And a proposed timeline, if possible.”

Rhys immediately brought up his ECHOscreen, opening various documents and spreadsheets as he went through every step of the plan that had been brewing in his mind for weeks now. He had anticipated that he’d need to present his proposal eventually, though certainly not this soon—he was now supremely thankful that he had had the foresight to begin preparing the materials ahead of time.

As he spoke, Rhys noticed Jack’s mood gradually shift from being blatantly pissed off and itching for the chance to shut him down, to mild interest in what he was actually saying, and then finally to begrudging acceptance, a small, pleased smile on his lips.

He was partway through explaining the various benefits the improvements would bring, when Jack cut him off mid-sentence. “Yeah yeah, okay, I get it. It’s not the worst plan I’ve ever heard, so congrats on not being a total screw up. But two years? Why the hell is it gonna take that long? Most of this seems like it should be done in six months, tops.”

“The problem is our budget,” Rhys answered eagerly, roused at the possibility that he might’ve actually _impressed_ Handsome Jack. “All of Hyperion’s resources are currently going towards eridium mining and research. Right now, my department just doesn’t have the manpower to work on improvements or side projects.”

Bradley leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows and idly tapping the table’s surface in thought. “If our revenue goals are met, and I have no doubt they will be, then it shouldn’t be hard for Blake to squeeze some extra money from the investors. As long as the eridium keeps pouring in, an extra million or two is pocket change.”

Jack continued staring at Rhys, a familiar glint returning to his eyes. He made his way across the room, gaze fixed on Rhys’s face the entire way down. Rhys reflexively shrunk in his seat as Jack stopped directly beside him and gave the back of his chair a light shove, causing it to swivel until the two of them faced one another. “Okay, Rhysie. Consider your budget doubled.”

Rhys’s jaw dropped, prompting an amused smirk from the man now towering over him. “Seriously?”

“Yup.” Jack leaned forward till their eyes were level, faces so close that their breaths mingled in the air between them. Rhys stared fixedly at the movement of Jack’s masked lips as he murmured, too quietly for the others to hear, “Not just a pretty face after all, huh kiddo?”

In a mockery of affection, Jack patted his cheek with the back of his gloved hand, once, and then twice, before drawing away and retreating back to the opposite end of the room. Through the haze of shock now clouding his mind, Rhys vaguely noticed Bradley direct a thumbs up in his direction while Jack’s back was turned, whereas Priscilla merely crossed her arms and huffed, glaring at him from the corner of her eyes.

If anything, her envy only made him feel all the more worthy. A slow grin spread across his face.

Rhys: 1, The world: 0

* * *

[unknown] **URGENT** 9:40 AM  
[unknown] URGENT 9:40 AM  
[unknown] URGENT 9:39 AM  
[unknown] URGENT 9:39 AM  
[unknown] URGENT 9:39 AM  
[unknown] URGENT 9:39 AM  
[unknown] URGENT 9:39 AM

Rhys tapped in to the stranger’s final email, brows furrowing upon confirming that its contents were identical to the other six: all were attempting to warn him of Dahl’s infiltration into Hyperion’s servers. His fingers hovered over the holographic keyboard of his ECHOscreen as he considered whether to put his suspicion into words. Eventually, he typed out his response.

> **RE: URGENT**
> 
> are you the voice that talked to me earlier? in my office.

The sending of his email was followed by a long, dull wait, his frown deepening as the minutes ticked away uneventfully. As unlikely as it seemed, maybe what had happened that morning really was just a coincidence. Or maybe he had posed the question too bluntly.

With a sigh, Rhys got up and prepared himself for bed, easily falling into his usual ritual. He had just flopped back onto his mattress when he finally received an email alert.

> **RE: URGENT**
> 
> yes

His breath stalled in his throat. Holy _shit_.

> **RE: URGENT**
> 
> would you mind “talking” to me again? the same way you did earlier today.

It only took a moment for the warmth to creep under his skin, flowing through the wires that branched from his neural port and intertwined with his flesh.

“Hello again,” the stranger said, the voice just as soft and soothing as Rhys had remembered. His lips unconsciously quirked into a smile from the sound of it alone.

“Seriously, how are you doing this?” Rhys had been personally customizing the security on his hardware for years. It should have been near impossible for anyone to hack him.

There was a pause, and for a moment, he thought she would avoid the question altogether. Then the moment passed, and she replied, tone riddled with caution, “I have access to Helios’s entire ECHOnet system. That includes any devices that are connected to the network.”

Rhys’s face twisted in surprise. There was just no way. The entire ECHOnet system on Helios was an inconcievably _huge_ amount of data, far too much for just one person to manage or even comprehend. Yet he automatically fought against his own doubt, wanting, for some inexplicable reason, to trust her.

A question popped into his mind, one that he was almost afraid to ask.

“You don’t have to respond if you don’t want to,” he began, keeping his tone as delicate as he could. “But I don’t think any _person_ has the ability to do what you do. So … are you human?”

Her reply came more easily than he expected. “No,” she answered, her voice firm.

A small part of Rhys couldn’t help but feel disappointed. So his mystery penpal had been an AI all along. Albeit an extraordinarily advanced AI, the likes of which he hadn’t even known existed. “Do you work for Jack?” he asked next. “I mean, I guess you must, if you can access everything on Helios.”

“Gosh, you’re full of questions, aren’t you?” Despite her friendly tone, there was a tremor in her voice, and Rhys instinctually knew he had trespassed into forbidden territory. He immediately began blurting out apologies, feeling genuinely terrible. Even though she was an AI, to Rhys, she felt oddly fragile, as if she could be winked out of existence with just one wrong word.

She cut Rhys’s apologetic rambling short with a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Really.” He could hear a smile in her voice, like gentle sunlight peeking out between the clouds. “For better or worse, yes, I work for Jack. He … created me.”

Rhys nodded at thin air and wondered if the AI could see it. The pieces were clicking into place, but a heavy sense of unease remained in his chest. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about the situation, like he was missing something very important.

“So, um...” Rhys cleared his throat, heat creeping into his cheeks as he had a rather embarassing epiphany. “I’m guessing you, uh, have seen Jack and I … when we’re, you know … together?”

He heard a sputtering, indignant squawk, so lacking in grace that Rhys nearly didn’t believe his own ears. He could practically feel the AI’s mortification, as if it were being directly transmitted to him. “No!” she said, more squeak than word. “I never actually _watch_ , that’s just … that’s just gross!”

Rhys blinked. And then he laughed, quietly at first until it grew in volume. He curled into a ball, drawing his knees to his face in an attempt to muffle it. The AI soon joined him, her laughter echoing in his head like wind chimes in a light breeze.

“Well, sorry for traumatizing you, I guess.” Rhys used his flesh palm to rub a stray tear from his eye. “So does Jack have you keep an eye on all of his hookups or am I just special?” The possibility of the former didn’t seem so farfetched. If anything, he expected that level of caution from a man of Jack’s position.

“To be fair, Jack would have me watch everyone, all the time, if I were capable of it. But the reason why I’ve been contacting _you_ , specifically…” She trailed off, seeming suddenly hesitant, Rhys’s curiosity only growing with each passing second.

“I-” She began, and then stopped abruptly, as though the words were caught in her chest. She took a deep breath. “...I just want someone to talk to.”

There it was again, that fragility, as though she might withdraw back into herself at any moment. The heat at his neural port spiked for a brief moment, his temple throbbing in response, as though wounded. He wondered if that meant that Jack was the only other person she was in regular contact with. As drawn as Rhys was to the man, he didn’t even want to imagine what it’d be like if Handsome Jack were the only person he spoke to, ever.

Before the silence between them could turn awkward, Rhys said, in the most lighthearted tone he could muster under the circumstances, “In that case, I guess I can’t blame you for choosing me, out of everyone on Helios. I _do_ think pretty highly of myself.”

“Then you and Handsome Jack share that in common,” she retorted, ending the remark with an amused snort that sounded strangely similar to Jack’s. It figured—of course Jack couldn’t resist modeling the AI to his likeness, at least in some ways.

“Okay,” Rhys said, smiling faintly. “I have just one last question. Promise.”

She huffed in false exasperation. “Fine, but just _one_.”

“What do I call you? I figure that referring to you as ‘mystery voice’ or ‘hey you’ will get old after a while, so...” He trailed off, feeling oddly nervous.

He heard her draw a sharp breath and smiled at how lifelike she seemed. Jack sure put a lot of effort into making her.

“Angel,” she said. “Call me Angel.”

* * *

After the rather surreal experience of befriending a highly advanced security AI, yet another surreal moment awaited Rhys when he stepped into his office the next morning. Rhys was checking his emails on his ECHOscreen when he entered and initially overlooked the handwritten note laid neatly atop his desk, the letterhead and embossed Hyperion seal clearly denoting the stature of the letter’s author.

Rhys gingerly pinched the sheet of paper between the fingers of his flesh hand, handling the document as though it would crumble to dust if he so much as breathed on it.

> Heya Rhysie,
> 
> Left you a little gift in the corner of your office. Consider it your reward for a job decently done.
> 
> You’re welcome, by the way.
> 
> Jack
> 
> P.S. Are fedoras still a thing? Whatever, just wear it the next time we see each other, okay.

Rhys swiveled his chair in search of the present, expecting to find a small wrapped package in a corner somewhere. It took approximately two seconds for him to find it, and when he did, he simply gaped. It took up so much space that he wasn’t sure how he _hadn’t_ seen it when he first walked in.

A loader bot stood quietly in the back corner, blocking a significant portion of his view of Elpis. A single black fedora was delicately balanced on the sharp bend of its shoulder, and across its torso hung a sign with the words “RHYS’S HAT RACK” crudely written in marker.

The loader bot’s glowing red eye zoomed in on Rhys as it raised its hatless arm, its gears whirring softly as it waved.

「HI.」

Rhys waved in return, shoulders slumping as he did so. “Hi.”

One day, he would actually understand Jack’s sense of humor. Today was not that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Rhys stood up from his desk and moved to gather his things, but froze when a soft, melodic, and altogether unfamiliar voice called out to him._
> 
> _"The ladies say that Scooter's the fastest ride in town! Catch-A-Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide!"_
> 
> A/N: Just fyi, Fire Emblem: Fates is releasing this Friday, and it will almost certainly consume my life. So if it takes a while longer than usual for me to post the next chapter ... my apologies in advance. >>;
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [bell](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) ❤ 


	5. Envy pt.I

“Why are these private Hyperion parties always only plus one? You upper management guys are practically bathing in cash these days. No way the company can’t afford a little extra booze.”

Rhys shrugged, eyeing Vaughn with amusement as the man vented his frustration on the slab of beef he was messily tearing into. In recent months, Rhys’s office had become a semi-regular lunch spot for the three of them, especially now that they had developed an odd camaraderie with the loader bot that had become a fixture of his office, the black fedora now dusty from disuse.

“Pretty sure they don’t limit attendance to save on alcohol,” Rhys said between bites. “It probably has more to do with the executives and how they don’t like being around too many of you normals.”

Yvette rolled her eyes as Rhys laughed at his own pompous joke. Yeah, he was letting the power get to his head a little. After being a department head for nearly a year, it was practically inevitable.

“So, Yvette,” Vaughn said, wagging his brows at her suggestively. “Wanna have a finger gun showdown to decide who gets to go? Or an imaginary knife fight?”

She peered at him from above the rim of her glasses, a sardonic smile twisting her lips. “I’ll pass. Those stuffy black tie events aren’t my scene, anyway.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I already have a suit that’s perfect for the occasion. Not that I was waiting for an invitation or anything.” Vaughn followed the statement with a cough, then quickly shoved a slice of meat into his mouth.

“I dunno,” Rhys said, casting a surreptitious glance in the direction of the room’s fourth occupant. “I was thinking of bringing Loader Bot instead. He has some pretty sick dance moves.”

Loader Bot stiffly raised its arm, curling its mechanical fingers to form a ridiculous thumbs up gesture.

「YOU ARE CORRECT. HAT RACK BY DAY, PARTY ANIMAL BY NIGHT.」

“You’d choose him over me? Cold, man.” Vaughn shook his head somberly. “Cold.”

Rhys glanced at the time and hastily shoveled his few remaining scraps of food into his mouth. “Sorry, guys,” he said as he disposed of his plate. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

The overhaul of Helios’s security systems was about to enter into its final stages, and Jack wanted a status update before he officially signed off on it. Normally, the other executives handled direct project oversight, but since his impromptu presentation, Jack had developed a particularly keen interest in Rhys’s pet project.

Yvette cocked an elegantly manicured brow. “You have a meeting _now_? Your lunch hour isn’t even halfway over.”

“Yeah, well,” Rhys gave her a sheepish smile. “This one doesn’t like to wait.”

「HE’S MEETING WITH HANDSOME JACK.」

Yvette’s expression shifted in an instant, the edges of her mouth tilting into a frown. “Seriously? I thought you said you don’t ever meet with him directly?”

“Yeah, that’s … kinda changed as of late.” Rhys’s eyes darted to the loader bot innocently perched in the corner. “How did you know?” He was certain he hadn’t mentioned the meeting to anyone.

「YOU ONLY GET THAT LOOK ON YOUR FACE WHEN YOU’RE THINKING ABOUT JACK.」

Rhys blinked. “What?”

Vaughn squinted, hunching forward as though to get a better look. “Wooooah, you’re right! It’s _that look_! Now it all makes sense!”

Rhys crossed his arms, brows creasing in a glare. “ _What_ look?”

Yvette squinted at him as well before settling back in her seat with a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I have _no_ idea what you guys are talking about. That looks like the same goofy expression he always has.”

“Okay, you know what.” Rhys turned away with a huff, if only so that the three of them would stop gawking at his face. “I’m going off to my awesome, super exclusive meeting with the CEO. You two losers can just sit here and hang out with my hat rack.”

Vaughn was now bent over with laughter, clearly having not caught a single word of what he said. “Look at him, it’s getting even worse. Dude, I feel like I can see into your soul or something.”

Rhys opened his mouth to retort, but quickly snapped it shut, deciding against saying anything at that point. He turned on his heel and stomped out of the room, the continued heckling from his so-called friends chasing him every step of the way.

Just before the door slammed shut behind him, he heard the loader bot call out:

「TELL JACK I SAID HI.」

Stupid, smartass loader bot.

* * *

Despite the ever-present threat of displeasing Jack, to possibly fatal consequences, Rhys generally looked forward to their status update meetings. Mainly because it was the one and only time he was ever given clearance to the executive floor, with its immense domed ceilings, absurdly luxurious facilities, and upholstery so fine that Rhys was honestly too nervous to touch any of it for fear of causing damage.

But when Rhys strolled in to the private salon where he was scheduled to meet Jack, the sight that greeted him instantly caused all his enthusiasm to drain away, sucked out of him like a leech on an open wound.

At first, he wasn’t entirely certain what he was looking at. There was Jack, sitting in a sleek leather lounge chair and gripping its arms as if it were a throne, and there was a woman, caging him to the seat with her arms. Her skintight clothing revealed a lean, muscular build, sunkissed skin peeking out above the waistline of her jeans. If he had any lingering doubts as to her skill set, the gun holster proudly on display at her hip firmly put them to rest.

She had her thumb pressed into the base of Jack’s throat, and he would’ve thought it was a threatening gesture if it weren’t for the expression on Jack’s face, one that Rhys had grown to know intimately, behind closed doors.

The woman leaned her face towards Jack’s at the same moment his hands settled comfortably at the small of her back, and Rhys tore his gaze away just before the moment of contact. The pounding of his heartbeat in his ears was almost enough to drown out the sounds of their kiss, wet lips colliding with tongue and teeth for an obscene length of time.

Rhys’s chest felt numb and hollow, as if something had been carved out of it. His fists clenched at his side. Suddenly, the executive floor was the last place in the whole universe that he wanted to be.

Jack whispered something to the woman when they finally parted, too quietly for Rhys to hear. She finally made her way out a few moments later, fastening a worn cowboy hat atop the crown of her head as she sauntered across the room. From the corner of his eyes, Rhys saw the woman tip the wide brim of her hat in his direction as she brushed past, but in a moment of childish spite, he chose not to return the greeting.

He waited until he heard the door click shut before finally approaching Jack, who looked entirely too satisfied with himself. Before he could bite back the words, Rhys asked, “Who the hell was that? There’s no way she’s Hyperion.”

Jack replied with an amused snort. “Yeah, no kidding. She probably has more balls than 99% of the sorry fops who work here.” He lifted himself from his chair and stretched his body with a loud groan before continuing, “She’s … an old friend. Knew me before I even knew myself.” He followed the cryptic statement with an equally cryptic chuckle.

His answer only stoked the fire of Rhys’s deep, irrational resentment. It’s not that he hadn’t known that Jack was sleeping around. Hell, the man had practically spelled it out for him every time he walked into one of their meetings practically reeking of sex and a stranger’s scent. But merely harboring a suspicion was one thing; having that suspicion so boldly confirmed—to the extent that the pair had practically made a performance of it—was another thing altogether.

Fueled by stupid, angry impulse, Rhys snapped, “Yeah, you two certainly seemed close. Do you get that _friendly_ with everyone?”

Jack’s face shifted and Rhys instinctively took a step back, fearing the worst. After all, Jack was already a force of nature when he was in a _good_ mood.

But then Jack tilted his head, regarding him as though he were a circus animal that just performed a particularly entertaining trick. “Hey,” he drawled, a slow grin forming on his mouth. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to be feeling a little jealous there, are you, Rhysie?”

Rhys blanched, blurting out the first thing that popped into his head. “What.”

“Oh god, you _are_.” Jack howled with a laugh that grew increasingly hysterical in tone, his shoulders shaking from it. Rhys crossed his arms and stared hard at his feet, face so flushed that the heat even reached his ears. At times like this, he wished he could wear a mask too.

“Aww, don’t make that face,” Jack mockingly cooed once he had finally settled down, fixing Rhys with a wicked smirk. “Don’t worry, babe. You’re still my favorite fuck on Helios.” Jack punctuated the statement with a condescending slap to the ass, sharp enough that Rhys jumped a little from the sting.

Despite himself, Rhys’s mind automatically zeroed in on the words “on Helios” and the implications it bore. He wondered how many (probably countless) others there were on Pandora or Elpis or even in other galaxies. The numbing in his chest only worsened at the thought.

Annoyed at himself and especially at Jack, he abruptly snapped his ECHOscreen open, a holographic line chart floating just inches away from Jack’s face. “I have the weekly performance metrics since our most recent server upgrade. Do you want to hear this or not?”

Jack’s smile gradually flattened to a straight line, looking thoroughly put out. “Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie. You’re no fun at all.” Despite his admonishment, Jack lowered himself into the chair once more, gesturing to the chart with a wave of his hand. “Since you’re so eager, I’m assuming you have nothing but good news for me?”

And it was good news, for the most part. The sporadic Dahl attacks continued, like clockwork, but despite the startling precision with which the hackers attacked the weaknesses in their security, the damage was now much easier to contain.

Jack patted him on the back when he was done, looking genuinely pleased. Rhys should’ve felt proud. Instead, he was pissed as all hell.

* * *

After leaving his meeting with Jack in a considerably dour mood, Rhys had resigned himself to moping for the remainder of the day. He was on his way to one of the better cafes on the lower levels of Helios, hoping to console himself with the largest, sugariest latte he could get his hands on (with an added helping of whipped cream on top because why the hell not—and who was he even trying to impress at this point?), when he nearly smacked face-first into the broad chest of a tall stranger.

Rhys reflexively hopped a step back and began to mumble an apology, but stopped mid-sentence upon realizing that this person was, in fact, no stranger to him at all. “Aiden?”

The man blinked down at him with bright, wide eyes, still the same shade of blue as the sunny summer skies of Eden-5. “Rhys?”

Aiden’s eyes grew even bigger as his face shone with the most sincere, unguarded smile Rhys had seen in months. “Holy _shit_! It really is you! I almost didn’t recognize you with all your … new additions.” He gestured at his cybernetic arm. “Hyperion colors and everything.”

Rhys used his flesh hand to gently rub at the chrome plating, feeling suddenly self-conscious of how his arm must’ve looked combined with the outfit he was wearing: Hyperion colors _everywhere_. He probably looked like a mascot. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t kidding when I said I’d give an arm to work at Hyperion.”

Rhys smiled as his (admittedly lame) joke still garnered a laugh from his old friend. The sound of it still felt so familiar to Rhys, even after time and distance had muddled his memories of those days to nothing more than jumbled flashes of remembrance, like scattered puzzle pieces.

He didn’t think his friend’s appearance had changed so much: he was still enviously athletic; his bronze skin was still inexplicably, gloriously tanned even in _outer space_ ; all in all, he still looked damn good. Rhys instantly regretted his hedonistic ice cream eating, coffee bingeing lifestyle, praying to the gods that none of it showed. “So,” he said as casually as he could, “What are you doing on Helios? Didn’t you get shipped off to Tantalus after graduation?”

Aiden's smile faltered just enough to be noticeable. "Yeah, about that. I had a good run for about a year until..." He reached for the collar of his sweater, tugging it down just enough to reveal the coin-shaped scar tucked in the valley of his collarbone, the one blemish on otherwise smooth, unmarked skin. "Funny thing about being in war-torn regions: you tend to get a little torn up yourself." He interjected with a short, humorless hiccup of a laugh. "Now I'm playing it safe as a medical assistant."

Rhys couldn't help a small frown as he silently wondered if his friend had jumped from the frying pan into the proverbial fire. On the outside, Helios resembled nothing of the ravaged Tantalus landscape, but beneath the station's sleek, shiny surface was a battlefield all of its own—albeit one that operated on completely different rules.

"So," Aiden said in an upbeat tone, valiantly attempting to lighten the mood, "How about you, man? Was Hyperion worth giving up an arm for?"

"Oh, you know," Rhys replied, a pompous little smile working its way onto his lips. "Considering I'm the Head of InfoSec now, yeah, I'd say it was."

Rhys felt his chest puff out at the unadulterated awe that rolled off the other man in waves. Yeah, it was shameless gloating, but Rhys figured his ego needed stroking after the bruising it had taken earlier in the day.

"That's amazing! I mean, wow, am I even allowed to talk to a big shot like you?" Aiden waggled his brows as he asked, prompting a refreshingly genuine laugh from Rhys.

"For you, I'll make an exception," he replied, a pleasant flutter warming his chest. "I was just about to grab a drink before my next meeting. Wanna come with?"

They made their way to a posh cafe at the heart of the Hub of Heroism, Rhys deciding to forego the latte in favor of a nice, healthy cup of chamomile tea. They filled Rhys's scant remaining free time discussing the few months Aiden had so far spent on Helios, and eventually, they circled back to the topic of Rhys's lofty position at Hyperion.

"What's the view like up in your ivory tower?" Aiden asked with a teasing grin. "Does Handsome Jack ever grace you with his presence or is he as elusive to you as he is to everyone else?"

Carefully, Rhys replied, "I meet with him on occasion."

He sipped his tea and watched in quiet amusement as Aiden's brows shot up to his forehead. "Seriously? Woah. What's that like?"

"Terrifying if he's having a bad day. Entertaining if he isn't." Rhys neglected to share exactly how "entertaining" their meetings sometimes were.

He bit back a frown as a memory from his meeting earlier that day resurfaced in his mind. He mentally shoved the thought away and focused on the man before him, who was now absentmindedly staring at the coffee cup clenched loosely in his hand.

"Yeah, I can imagine." He scrunched his brows, eyes cast downwards in thought as he added, "Actually, no, I can't. The upper levels of Helios seem like a whole different world to me."

"They kind of are. I've been to a bunch of the 'exclusive' parties—the ones the executives actually attend—and it still feels a little surreal." Rhys brought the rim of his cup to his lips, but abruptly stopped as an idea took root in his head. "Hey," he said, startling the other man with his sudden loudness, "Actually, the annual year end party is this Friday. It's plus one and I don't have a date yet, so..."

Rhys trailed off, letting the unspoken invitation hang in the air between them. With some embarrassment, he belatedly realized that he had accidentally used the word date, but if Aiden noticed, he didn't show it.

"Would that be okay?" Aiden asked, face bright despite the uncertainty in his voice. "Bringing along some random newbie like me, I mean."

"It should be fine. Just don't look at anyone directly or they might sense you."

"In that case, I'll just have to keep my eyes on you the whole night." Aiden punctuated the words with a laugh that was almost casual, if not for the slight gruffness at its edges.

Rhys took another gulp of tea, hiding the giddy smile that threatened to erupt onto his face. Suddenly, his day had gotten that much better.

He made a mental note to apologize to Vaughn later for giving away his invite. He'd understand.

Probably.

* * *

 Rhys arrived home from work at his usual time: nine p.m. on the dot. The moment he shut his front door, he felt a familiar warmth at his temple, as an equally familiar voice called out to him soon after.

"Rhys?" There was a mischievous lilt in her tone, one that usually preceded a question—and likely an embarrassing one.

He huffed in faux annoyance, his true feelings betrayed by the smile on his lips. "Uh oh. What is it this time? Are you gonna interrogate me about my socks again?" He toed off his left boot, revealing the incongruously playful, pastel-colored sock hidden within.

"No. This is more interesting than those funny little socks of yours."

Rhys undid his tie as he made his way across the spacious living room of his penthouse, carelessly tossing the fabric onto his couch once he wrenched it loose. At some point, his nightly conversations with the AI had snuck its way into his routine, and now, his day no longer felt complete without that pretty voice filling his head.

"Well then?" He asked as he inelegantly flopped onto his sofa. "What is it?"

"How do you know Aiden?" she finally asked, the words practically tumbling from her mouth in her excitement. "I saw you talking to him earlier today."

Rhys was about to ask how _she_ knew Aiden until he realized how obvious the answer was. Angel practically _was_ Helios. Of course she knew Aiden—and virtually everyone else on the station. Instead, he asked, "Were you spying on me?"

"I was just curious. You two seemed ... close." Rhys fought the urge to affectionately scoff at the overly-girlish giggle that followed. Sometimes talking to Angel felt like gossiping with a teenage girl.

"We were classmates back in college. It wasn't a big deal, but we ... dated for a few months." If it could be called dating. A more accurate description was that they casually screwed around for a bit while Aiden was on the rebound. Not that Rhys would ever put it that way, and especially not to Angel.

"You guys _dated_?"

She sounded so shocked that Rhys couldn't help but feel slightly wounded by it. "Well, yeah. Is it really so hard to believe?"

She hummed, as if in thought. "It's not that it's hard to believe. It's just surprising. I mean, he's so _different_  from Jack."

"You could say that again," Rhys muttered with a snort. If Aiden was a spring breeze, then Jack was a hurricane. But in Rhys's eyes, the crowning difference between the two was that Aiden had yet to totally piss him off the way Jack had earlier that day.

"So," Angel said, voice slow and hesitant, like a child tiptoeing into forbidden territory. "Is Jack not your ... usual type?"

Rhys chuckled at that. It was rare for Angel to inquire about his relationship (of sorts) with Jack, but on the few occasions that she did, the questions were always worded with extreme caution, as though she were wary of broaching the topic at all. "Not exactly. I mean, I don't think Jack even _is_  a type. But I guess there are certain things about him that I've also liked in other men."

Rhys regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. As predicted, Angel then innocently and inevitably asked, "Like what?" Which forced Rhys to actually contemplate what he liked about Handsome Jack.

"I dunno," Rhys mumbled, lamely, half-heartedly trying to weasel his way out of answering. When it became clear that Angel would only continue to pursue her line of questioning, he finally and exasperatedly replied, "I don't know, I guess I have a thing for older men? Especially the ones who have tons of power and charisma and are maybe more than a little arrogant, which I know sounds awful, but that's what I like." He hesitated out of sheer embarrassment, part of him still reeling from the fact that he was actually admitting this shit out loud. Before Angel had a chance to interject, he took a deep breath and plowed through the rest of his confession. "And with Jack especially, being with him is kind of a power trip, you know? I mean, knowing that I'm able to ... please someone who's so, um, aggressive and demanding is ... appealing. T-to me."

Rhys snapped his mouth shut before any more words could escape. The silence that followed was just about as long and awkward as he had imagined it would be. Then, finally: "Ew."

Rhys curled into a ball, burying his reddened face into the plush cushions of his sofa. "Hey, _you're_ the one who asked."

"Yes. And I will never ask again."

He rolled his eyes, knowing Angel would be able to see it through his cybernetics. "I see how it is."

"Good. Though to your credit, I can't honestly say Jack is any better. Other than you, every other guy he's ... been with has been awful." She paused to chuckle and then said, with more than a hint of judgment, "So at least you two can have terrible taste in men together."

"Wait," Rhys replied, his interest begrudgingly piqued, "Exactly how many other guys have there been?" Then he immediately thought better of it and clapped his hands over his ears, realizing immediately afterwards how useless the gesture was in muffling Angel's voice. "Actually, nevermind. I don't want to know."

"You really don't have anything to worry about," she replied in a dry tone, one she had a habit of adopting only when she was criticizing Jack in some way, "I'm not exaggerating when I say that they've all been awful. I think even Jack himself knows it." She heaved a sigh, sounding much too weary for a voice so young. "The last guy he was with—Jason, I think—was one of the worst. He was a real as-" She stopped, abruptly, and coughed before saying, "A real jerk. It ended violently, as you can imagine."

Rhys chose to ignore the ominous implications of Jason's fate, and instead latched onto the word that Angel had censored herself from saying. It was an odd habit, and Rhys wondered where, exactly, it stemmed from. Was it a learned behavior or something that was hardcoded into her? "You know," Rhys said, wryly, "You're allowed to swear around me, if you want. I'm pretty sure I can handle it."

There was a lengthy pause, and just as Rhys was about to call out her name, Angel said in the smallest of voices, "He was an ... asshole." She whispered it, like a child testing out curse words for the first time.

Rhys chewed on his bottom lip, but despite his best efforts, his laughter still managed to slip through the cracks. He covered his mouth with the palm of his flesh hand, attempting to smother it.

"Hey," Angel chided. "Don't laugh at me." If she had a face, Rhys imagined that she would almost certainly be pouting.

Their conversation eventually shifted towards more mundane topics: how packed Rhys's schedule was for the next couple days, Loader Bot's strange sense of humor (he once made fun of the way Rhys wore his tie—who _does_ that?), and the many odd or even scandalous things Angel witnessed on a daily basis.

Before he knew it, his eyes had begun to droop shut. Sleeping on his couch was quickly becoming a bad habit, but after a long talk with Angel, he was often too tired and lazy to drag himself to his bedroom. He was barely clinging to consciousness when he noticed the lights steadily darken, then shut off altogether, seemingly on their own. Rhys smiled and sleepily murmured "thank you" to the empty room before finally drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _「I DON'T THINK YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO TUCK IT IN LIKE THAT.」_
> 
> _Rhys sent the loader bot a withering glare and tossed his jacket atop its single red eye in protest._
> 
> _「WHY DO YOU REFUSE TO SEE THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS?」_
> 
> _"Just ... shut up."_
> 
>  
> 
> Song for this chapter: [Elle King - Ex's & Oh's](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9OvgrxaPKU)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [bell](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) ❤ 


	6. Envy pt.II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to say: I don't always reply to every comment (because I'm lame like that), but I do appreciate each and every one! I especially like how on the last chapter, half of you guys were like "hell yeah, Rhys, cheat on Jack's trifling ass!"
> 
> You guys crack me up. :P

Rhys hastened his pace to a jog and glanced at his reflection on the windows lining both sides of the hallway, ensuring that every tuft of hair was still immaculately styled. He smoothed the creases from his lapel, smirking at himself as he admired the flattering fit of his jacket. Despite the steep price tag, he didn't regret going all out on his tuxedo; midnight blue was a good color on him and the silk facings added that extra touch of elegance.

Rhys thought he looked downright _classy_. The only thing he felt mildly uncomfortable with was the damned bowtie—it made him look like a wrapped gift.

Aiden was already waiting at the elevator bank when he arrived, loitering in the center of the enclosed space. Rhys barely suppressed a grin when the other man’s eyes went huge at the sight of him and unsubtly trailed down the length of his body. Rhys took a moment to appreciate Aiden as well, who was donning a sharp three-piece ivory suit that hugged his body in all the right places. Rhys dragged his gaze upwards and felt an excited tingling in his chest upon noticing that Aiden's own gaze was still wandering.

"Wow," Aiden said after some time. "You, um ... You look good."

"Thanks," Rhys replied, failing to suppress a self-satisfied grin. "You're looking pretty dashing yourself. Are those designer shoes?"

"Oh, these old things?" Aiden clicked his heel against the tiled floor. "Had them for years. Though I only wear them on special occasions."

He offered his arm, which Rhys gladly accepted, curling the wrist of his flesh hand round the crook of Aiden's elbow. They sidled even closer together upon boarding the crowded elevator, Rhys pressing lightly against Aiden's side.

The elevator's passengers gradually trickled out as they ascended the station, rising nearly to its top. The party's venue was a bar called Selene, located just one stop shy of the executive floor. Rhys had not had the pleasure of attending any of the parties previously hosted at Selene, though he knew of the stories—specifically, stories of the red wine fountain at the very center of the bar. Needless to say, all the booze was on the house.

Aiden drew an audible gasp as they entered, arm-in-arm, marveling at their surroundings. Even Rhys, who thought he'd seen nearly everything Helios had to offer, felt more than a little impressed.

Tall greywood trees (doubtless imported from Eden-6) dotted the space, sprouting from the evenly-spaced cracks carved into the cobblestone paved floor. The moonlight from Elpis refracted through the glass walls, casting a soft violet glow over the crowd.

"Are we still in space?" Aiden asked in a voice just above a whisper, and Rhys simply gaped up at the web of tree branches high above them, wondering the same.

His gaze traced the trunk of the tallest tree in their vicinity, and he instinctively tensed upon recognizing the small crowd of people idling at its base. Aiden seemed to look in the same direction, as not a moment later, he leaned in and asked with a mixture of excitement and fear, "Is that Handsome Jack? It has to be, right?"

Rhys turned away, hoping his silence was answer enough. He used their linked arms to tug Aiden in the opposite direction, deciding the wine fountain was a much more attractive destination at that moment.

They had almost managed to slip past Jack's entourage until Rhys heard Bradley call out his name, and at that point, he had half a mind to ignore him outright and move on, pretending he hadn't heard. But Aiden stopped in his tracks, looking in the direction of Bradley's voice with wide, curious eyes.

Rhys mentally cursed as he and Aiden were forced to backtrack, and he very pointedly chose to avoid the (almost certainly heated) gaze of the man who stood at the group's center. He had half-expected for Jack to not even bother making an appearance, and his presence at the party ... complicated things somewhat. He uncoupled his arm from Aiden's as they approached, and Rhys hoped the movement looked more natural than it felt.

"Friend of yours?" Bradley asked when they drew near, gesturing at Aiden with a nod of his head.

"Old classmate," Rhys replied, smiling politely. "We went to university together."

"That's not uncommon at Hyperion. Believe it or not, Blake here went to the same business school as Chaz."

"Don't remind me," Blake sighed, his pallid skin losing even more of its color at the memory.

The conversation continued on around them, and all the while, Rhys had made sure to perfectly angle his body so that Jack was entirely cropped out from his field of vision. He had been so intent on ignoring Jack that it took several minutes of polite mingling for him to notice how unnaturally quiet the man was. Even once the focus of the conversation had shifted to Aiden (who hardened like a statue under the group's critical gaze), Jack had barely spoken a peep.

His silence only made Rhys all the more wary of what he'd find if he actually looked at the man. Eventually, he managed to wriggle his way out from the conversation, using the nearby libations as an excuse. He once more slipped his arm around Aiden's as he led him away, heart racing as he felt Jack's eyes clinging to their backs as they retreated.

Aiden let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slouching as his muscles went slack. "I think that conversation shaved a couple years off my life."

Rhys chuckled, leaning close enough that his cheek brushed against the soft fabric of Aiden's sleeve. "It probably did. I might die by the age of 35, at this rate."

Aiden heaved a sigh as he gratefully accepted the wine glass Rhys offered to him, which was plucked from one of the many neatly stacked towers dotting the perimeter of the fountain. "Handsome Jack barely said anything, but he still freaked me out. He looked so ... intense."

 _Yeah_ , Rhys thought. _I bet_.

The two of them dipped the bowls of their glasses into the dark red waterfall, which seemed to glow eerily under the violet moonlight. They made quick work of their first round of drinks, the alcohol gently easing their nerves. Soon, Rhys felt loose and relaxed, their encounter with Jack nearly forgotten as he and Aiden reminisced about old friends and acquaintances.

After a couple refills, they decided to move onto the harder drinks available further in. "So," Rhys said as they made their way to the bar, careful to keep his tone conversational. "How's Richard? Is he still on Eden-5?" It was something Rhys had been wondering since first seeing Aiden on Helios, though he lacked the courage to ask until now.

Aiden's whole body seemed to stiffen at the inquiry. "I wouldn't know," he said gruffly, as if forcing out the words. "We haven't been in contact."

Rhys sent him a sardonic smirk. Some things really never changed. "How long has it been this time?" he asked, lightly nudging the other man's ribs with his elbow. "Two months? Three?"

"Try two years."

Aiden's lips quirked into a sad little smile that instantly wiped all traces of amusement from Rhys's face. "Oh," he replied, not sure what else to say.

To Rhys's surprise, Aiden ordered them both shots of tequila. He grimaced as the liquid burned down his throat, and gladly sucked on the lime wedge the bartender provided for him. Unsurprisingly, the shots did wonders in dispelling any awkwardness between them.

At one point, the both of them started chatting about celebrity crushes in a quieter corner of the bar, a full pint of craft beer in each of their hands, when Aiden dangerously proposed a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill. They were to take a sip every time their answer was fuck, and to his own mortification, Rhys found himself sipping _a lot_.

Aiden's eyes pointed skywards in thought before saying, "Mr. Torgue?"

Rhys wrinkled his nose. "You're kidding, right? Kill."

"Same," Aiden agreed with a laugh. "And hey, you can never be too sure. People are into all kinds of stuff." He didn't bother to elaborate, and instead topped off the comment with a swig of beer.

Rhys did the same before suggesting, "Axton, the vault hunter."

In an instant, Aiden tipped his beer into his mouth and took a long, slow sip. "If he asked, I'd bottom for him," he admitted with an easy laugh, the confession prompting a faint blush from Rhys.

He cleared his throat, dismissing the (admittedly arousing) image from his mind as he answered, "It's marry for me. He seems like a gentleman. Well, you know, beneath all the killing." He ended his explanation with a stilted cough.

Aiden swept his eyes across the room, lips tugging into a mischievous smile as he found his mark. "What about Handsome Jack?"

Rhys was so taken aback by the question that his initial response was an odd squawking noise, which caused Aiden to arch his brow at him in a mixture of amusement and confusion. Rhys coughed into his loosely balled fist, and after a moment's hesitation, he decided to answer with the truth. He took a sip.

Aiden outright whistled at him, eyes wide with mirth. "Daaamn, Rhys. You'd go down on the big, bad CEO?"

"...The idea of it has crossed my mind." Rhys neglected to mention that the "ideas" crossing his mind were memories rather than fantasies, but still. It wasn't entirely a lie.

As if on cue, a mental reel of all his hookups with Jack flashed through his head all at once, like some demented, X-rated slideshow. He felt his face flush and took a huge gulp of beer, hoping he could blame it on the alcohol.

Apparently unaware of his inner turmoil, Aiden nearly brought the rim of his glass to his mouth, but then suddenly jerked away from it. He paused for a moment and then finally answered, "Marry."

Rhys blinked. "Seriously?"

"Yup. Think about it, someone that rich and powerful? You gotta lock him down early."

Rhys snorted, the sound of it more derisive than he had intended. "Yeah, well ... good luck with that."

Aiden shifted his weight, his chest bumping into the curves of Rhys's back. Rhys leaned into the touch, feeling the other man stiffen momentarily before relaxing against him.

"You know," Aiden said in a low murmur. "I'm honestly surprised you're not dating anyone. I mean, you've been here for, what, a year? I figured someone would've scooped you up by now."

Rhys used his cybernetic arm to lightly tug at the one loose strand of hair falling across his forehead. He shrugged, the fabric of his clothes rustling against Aiden's. "Hyperion doesn't exactly have the best dating pool. Most people here are either old, married, or so distrusting and manipulative that half the things they say are lies." Rhys blissfully shushed the little voice in his head whispering that two of the three things he listed easily applied to Jack.

"Well, our university didn't boast the greatest dating pool either, but you still had tons of admirers."

Rhys turned to face the other man, brows jumping up in surprise. "Uh ... could you run that by me again? I mean, I knew I had admirers, but not _tons_ of them."

A slow smile spread across Aiden's mouth, forming dimples on his cheeks. Rhys decided he rather liked that smile. "You seriously didn't notice? Even one of my own friends had it pretty bad for you—and he got crazy jealous when he found out that we, um ... got together."

"Huh," Rhys said to himself, processing the information. "Wait, was it Graham? He was always a little weird around me."

"Bingo," Aiden replied with a grin. There was a warmth in his eyes that almost felt contagious, heat coursing through Rhys's chest and into his heart, forcing it to pump that much faster. In a quieter voice, Aiden said, "We had a pretty good run, didn't we?"

Rhys swallowed with some difficulty, fighting down the nerves that threatened to shut him up completely. He wedged his half-finished pint in between a couple other half-empty drinks on the crowded table next to them, gesturing for Aiden to do the same. He then took a step forward, closing the already short distance separating them, and clutched at the lapels of Aiden's jacket, gazing up at him through half-lidded eyes. "It doesn't have to be over," Rhys said, the low tone of his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. "Us, I mean."

The creeping blush on Aiden's face glowed pink even through his dark complexion. "Rhys-" he began, before the rest of his words were swallowed by a kiss, Rhys hungrily pulling the taller man down till their opened mouths crashed together.

Rhys slipped his tongue between Aiden's lips, coaxing him into action with small licks. He smiled victoriously as he felt the other man finally respond, lean arms wrapping firmly around his waist to draw their bodies even closer. Even through the lingering, acerbic flavor of tequila, Aiden still tasted sweet and Rhys melted into the comforting familiarity of it.

They parted for the barest of moments, hot breaths mingling in the air between them, before coming together once more. Spurred on by his growing, impatient arousal, Rhys pressed his thigh against the front of the other man's pants, giving the bulge there a slow, tentative rub.

Suddenly, he felt Aiden's arms unwrap from around him, a hand on his chest gently pushing him away. " _Woah_ , there," Aiden said, breathless. He took a step back, his hand resolutely keeping Rhys at arm's length. Their eyes met, and Rhys saw a wariness in Aiden's stare that he hadn't noticed until that moment.

"This doesn't have to be anything serious," Rhys blurted, hoping that reassurance would quell whatever worries Aiden had. "I'm not looking for a relationship."

"Yeah, I know. You've made that pretty obvious." Rhys detected the slightest hint of judgment in Aiden's tone, and he felt his mouth click shut on its own. He stepped out of Aiden's reach and attempted to beat down the dull, disappointed ache inside him.

He had fucked up. Worse yet, he had come off as _desperate_.

Rhys chewed on his bottom lip as Aiden readjusted his clothing, patting the wrinkles down to some semblance of normalcy. For a fleeting, panicked moment of despair, Rhys wondered if by joining Hyperion, he had sentenced himself to a loveless existence. What if his half-formed, misshapen fetus of a relationship with Jack was really the best he could hope for? The thought of it sent his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach.

Aiden cleared his throat, pulling Rhys away from his depressing train of thought. "Um," he began, nervously fidgeting with his tie, "Do you want to step out? It's getting kinda stuffy in here."

Rhys nodded numbly, feeling too humiliated to say anything.

The air was noticeably cooler outside of the bar, drying some of the sweat that had gathered at Rhys's brow. They walked in relative silence until they reached a long, deserted stretch of hallway leading to the main elevator bank in the west wing of Helios.

"It's not you," Aiden said, voice soft and apologetic. "Seriously. It's just..." He sighed, running his fingers through his hair and mussing the finely combed locks. He glanced off to the side, at Pandora shining at them from a distance. "It's been two years. I know I should have moved on by now, but I still think about ... him." He turned back to face Rhys, the sad little smile returning to his lips. "I still have doubts."

Rhys nodded. "I understand," he said, the words ringing painfully false. Rhys had had his fair share of breakups, but real, raw heartbreak—the kind that took years to get over—was something he could live without.

They came to a halt at the center of the elevator bank, a row of metallic doors circling around them. "This is my stop," Aiden said, tapping the downwards arrow to summon the nearest elevator car. "Thanks, Rhys. I really did have fun."

Rhys stiffened as Aiden rested a hand on his shoulder. Aiden paused, seeming to consider something, before leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss at his temple, opposite his neural port. Rhys smiled at the innocent gesture; it might not have been what he wanted, but it was sweet, nonetheless.

Aiden stepped away as the elevator behind him dinged open. "Good night, Rhys," he said as he stepped into it, waving goodbye. Rhys waved in return, his smile faltering once the doors slid shut.

Rhys silently made his way back to the east wing, feeling suddenly drained of all energy. Warmth crawled into his neural port just moments before a voice said, "Despite everything, I think things turned out okay for the two of you, didn't it?"

Rhys mustered a smile, despite his tiredness. "Were you spying on me again?"

"Maybe a little," she admitted with a giggle. "Just so you know, Aiden was totally grinning to himself just a second ago. He looked pretty pleased."

"Well," Rhys muttered under his breath, "At least that makes one of us."

He quickly reached the east wing elevators, ready to turn in for the night despite the alcohol still thrumming through his veins. "For what it's worth-" Angel said, but abruptly stopped. Rhys tapped his foot, waiting for her to continue, and when she did, it was only to say, "Hold on." And then she left him completely.

Rhys frowned and wondered if something was wrong. The elevator had just arrived by the time she returned to him, her voice quiet and oddly strained despite the privacy of their connection. "Watch out," she whispered. "Angry Jack at six o'clock."

Rhys had just stepped into the elevator as she said it, and he immediately turned on his heel, spinning around in time to see Jack clamp both hands around the edges of the closing doors, prying them back open.

Wide-eyed, Rhys instinctively huddled into the furthest corner of the confined space as Jack casually strolled in and occupied the opposite end. He pressed the button for the topmost floor, and Rhys silently cursed his luck—of _course_ he just so happened to catch the one elevator in all of Helios that reached all the way up to Handsome Jack's office.

"Um," Rhys said, shifting nervously. "The elevator's going down before it goes back up again."

"Yeah, dumdum, I _know_ ," Jack retorted with a scoff just as the car began its descent. "But what's the hurry, right?" He grinned and the sight of it made Rhys distinctly uncomfortable. He seemed ... off, somehow. Unhinged.

Rhys's eyes trailed downwards, to the disheveled state of Jack's shirt, the top two buttons left undone. His frown deepened at the implications of it.

It took a moment for him to realize that Jack was inspecting him as well, narrowed eyes surveying every inch of his body, as if checking him for damage. When their gazes intersected once more, Jack was smirking, apparently pleased with what he found. "Sooo," he drawled, "You were getting awfully close to ol' what's his face back there. You know, tall-ish, dark, looks like the type of guy who cries after having sex?"

Jack cackled wickedly at his own crude joke. Rhys openly glared at the man, irritation flaring up within him. "His name is Aiden," he snapped. Before he could stop himself, he added, "And he's perfectly normal after sex."

Jack cut himself off mid-laugh, a look of anger flickering across his features. He took a single, threatening step forward at the same time Rhys took a step away, his back smacking against the cold metal walls.

"Well, well, well," Jack said, his voice bordering on a growl. "Even innocent little Rhysie gets around, huh?" His sneered, cruelly, as he went on to say, "Then again, maybe it isn't so surprising, considering how quick you are to spread 'em at my beck and call."

"Yeah, well, so what if I sleep around?" Rhys replied, unconsciously raising his voice. "What do you care?"

Jack barked out a joyless laugh, eyes clouding over with a dark emotion. "I guess you haven't been paying attention because otherwise you’d know that I'm pretty freakin' selfish. And I definitely don't _share_."

Rhys gritted his teeth, fuming. Even by Jack's standards, the level of hypocrisy was truly astounding. He had made it perfectly clear to Rhys exactly what type of "relationship" they had. Why the hell did he suddenly have a problem with it?

At that thought, Rhys was hit with an (in retrospect, obvious) epiphany. He smirked, his shift in demeanor apparently startling enough that for a second, Jack actually looked thrown off. "So," he said, sounding just as smug as he felt, "Who's the jealous one _now_?"

Jack's eyes went wide with surprise, as if he had only just realized it himself. Rhys savored his triumph—for all of two seconds.

Jack was on him in the next moment, slamming him against the wall so hard that it knocked all the air from his lungs. The crazed, manic glint had resurfaced in Jack's eyes, and he wore a wide, toothy grin to match it.

Jack's fingers dug harshly into the flesh below his shoulders, and Rhys reflexively grasped the man's wrists, a healthy dose of fear spiking through him. _So this is how I die_ , he thought.

The doors slid open and Rhys realized, belatedly, that they had arrived at his floor. There was a trio of people standing at the elevator's entrance, their chatter cut short upon catching sight of him and Jack. The strangers simply stood there, gaping at the two of them in stunned silence, until after a short wait, the doors shuttered close once again, blocking them from view.

Rhys dared himself to look the other man in the face as they began their ascent. Upon close inspection, he reeked of sweat and expensive bourbon, a combination that would've repelled Rhys if worn by just about anyone else. "So that's your angle," Jack finally said after a prolonged silence. "Well done, kiddo. Really."

Rhys opened his mouth to ask just what the hell he was talking about, but Jack lunged forward, roughly shoving his tongue into him. Rhys weakly tried to shove him away, pushing at the other man's chest, but Jack grabbed his flailing arms and restrained them, holding them steady on both sides of his head. If he really wanted to, Rhys knew he could overpower the other man with his cybernetic arm, but deep down, he thought that maybe this was what he wanted all along: Jack's full and undivided attention.

Rhys only noticed that the doors had opened once more after Jack had already pulled him through the gap, leading him by the wrist. At the end of the hallway were the famous double doors of Jack's office, and despite his current predicament, Rhys couldn't help but feel a little awed at the sight of them. He had always imagined that his first visit to Jack's office would be on official business, perhaps to discuss a confidential, high priority project. A booty call was a much less respectable reason for an invite, but hey. Rhys certainly wasn't complaining.

Jack slammed the doors open with one hand and shoved Rhys inside with the other, the roughness of it causing Rhys to trip and fall flat on his ass. The doors closed and Rhys grasped at the sudden darkness, searching for something to grab onto. He gasped as he felt strong arms grab him from under the armpits, pulling him across the room and onto his feet.

Just when he had regained his bearings, he felt his back connect with the wall once more, Jack's body covering every inch of his. He moaned into their kiss, feeling Jack grin as he did so, his legs automatically wrapping around Jack's waist just as both of the man's hands moved downwards to cup the cheeks of his ass. Their movements were so fluid and coordinated at this point that Rhys couldn't help but feel a bit like a pet, trained to react a certain way to Jack's every command.

"That's right, babe," Jack muttered against his throat, "Just five minutes with me and you're already begging for it. You must be real thirsty for my dick if you get this needy after, like, one night with another man."

Rhys let out a dry laugh, surprising himself with the harshness of it. If he were completely honest with himself, he was taking great pleasure in the fact that he seemed to be getting a rise out of Jack. It felt better than good.

It felt like power.

"Honestly, Jack. Do you really think my whole life revolves around you?"

Jack made a low, guttural noise that seemed to well up from deep within his chest. "Judging by your hair, your arm, your sweet ass job title? Yeah, I'd say a whole lot of your life revolves around me."

Rhys wanted badly to retort, to prove Jack wrong, but the truth of the words stung him, any and all rebuttals turning to ash in his mouth. He threw his arms around Jack's neck as he felt his weight shift without warning, his back leaving the wall as Jack lifted and carried him across the room.

Jack paused momentarily, cursing under his breath as one hand fumbled with what sounded like a keypad. He heard the mechanical hiss of a door panel opening on its own, and they stepped into an even darker room apparently hidden somewhere within Jack's office.

Rhys yelped in an entirely undignified way as Jack forcibly untangled his arms from his neck and pushed him off. As he fell, he braced himself for the impact, but instead of the hard marble floor, his body bounced onto something soft, but firm. After the initial haze of confusion, Rhys realized that the thing he had landed on was a mattress—one that was rather high quality judging by its size, as well as the fact that it didn't creak at all, even after Jack practically pounced on top of it, caging Rhys with his arms.

Rhys shivered as Jack leaned into him, his hot breath brushing the shell of his earlobe. "Admit it, Rhysie," he hissed. "You flirted with that loser just to piss me off."

"I didn't," he weakly protested, the tremble in his voice making him sound even less convincing. "He's ... He's _nice_ , okay."

Jack let out a low rumble of a laugh directly into his ear. "He's nice. Uh huh. Because being nice is what gets you hard."

As if to prove his point, Jack rolled his hips against his, the sudden friction wrenching a strangled moan from Rhys's throat. His fingers clawed at the front of Jack's shirt, silently urging him on.

"See that? Face it, kid. You've imprinted to me. Like a little baby animal."

Rhys glowered, knowing their faces were close enough that Jack would be able to see it even through the darkness. His anger gradually melted out of him as Jack continued to grind their hips together, over and over, dry humping him into the mattress.

Rhys wasn't sure what stupid impulse he was acting on, but at one point, Jack eased up on him, lifting his hips slightly to reorient himself, and Rhys seized the small window of opportunity to reverse their positions. He used his weight to force Jack onto his back, straddling him by the waist.

He could tell that he took Jack by surprise from the way the man tensed underneath him, and he felt an instant surge of panic. _WhatamIdoing, whatamIdoing, whatamIdoing_ , his mind shouted, instinctively preparing for Jack to knock him off the bed at any moment.

He nearly jumped in shock when he felt Jack's hands settle comfortably onto the sides of his hips. In the dark, Rhys could see the contortions of his mask, his lips twisting into an amused smirk that simply _dared_ Rhys to impress him.

Rhys accepted the challenge, leaning forward onto his palms to steady himself before rocking his hips against the hardening bulge in Jack's pants, his own erection already straining against the confines of his clothing.

He heard Jack's breath hitch, his fingers digging a little more deeply into his sides. His reaction spurred Rhys to repeat the movement, making sure to roll his hips at a teasingly, torturously slow pace.

At one point, Jack's hand slipped downwards, moving to palm Rhys's erection through his pants, but he halted the man's movement with a grab of the wrist. "Not yet," Rhys whispered, and through the shadows, he saw the outline of Jack's grin, teeth gleaming pearly white.

In lieu of his pants, Jack worked on his shirt instead, first undoing the silly bowtie, and then the row of buttons lining his front. Jack's hands possessively stroked the naked flesh of his torso, the expanse of soft, pale skin now unobscured by cloth, and used the pads of his thumbs to rub circles around the nub of his nipples, already pert from arousal.

Rhys shuddered at the unusually gentle touch. "Jack," he moaned, which the man in question took as a signal to reclaim control.

Jack flipped him onto his back, fingers still gripping him by the hips as he fell onto the mattress with a soft "oomph." He felt Jack working on the clasp of his belt, and his hands shot down to unfasten Jack's as well, fingers clumsy with anticipation.

Jack's fingers were quicker, already tugging Rhys's loosened pants off his hips in the time it took for Rhys to undo Jack's buckle. Jack eventually smacked his fumbling hands away and opted to undress himself instead, grumbling "how are you this slow?" under his breath. Rhys would've been offended if he weren't feeling just as impatient, practically tearing his own pants off in his struggle to be free of them.

Rhys's breath caught in his throat when Jack finally pulled his erect cock from beneath his boxers, the tip glistening with beads of precum. Rhys reached out to touch him, gasping in surprise when Jack suddenly grabbed his outstretched arm and tugged, simultaneously nudging at his body with his knee so that Rhys rolled over onto his stomach.

"Jack-" Rhys began, but whatever protests he had were lost as the weight of Jack's body smothered him from behind. He shuddered out a moan as Jack bucked into him, the length of his cock slotting in the space between his asscheeks.

Rhys buried his face into the mattress and muffled his groans, grinding into the bed at the same rhythm that Jack was using to grind against his ass. Without warning, Jack abruptly halted his movements, their rough breathing seeming all the louder in the sudden stillness.

“I can still smell him on you,” Jack growled, and before Rhys even had time to process the words, he emitted a choked cry from the sudden pain assaulting the side of his neck. He sputtered out a curse and reflexively tried (and failed) to elbow the man away from him, his resistance only fueling Jack’s spite.

He fucking _bit_ him.

“What the hell, Jack!” Rhys yelled when the other man finally withdrew, tears sprouting at the corners of his eyes from the fresh bruise now blossoming just below his jaw. To his surprise (and utter confusion), Jack then pulled a complete 180 and gently brushed his lips against the very edge of the wounded flesh, fluttering light kisses along the curve of his shoulder.

Rhys chewed his bottom lip, breathing harshly through his nose as Jack increased his pace, movements more erratic and desperate than before. His ass was slick with Jack’s precum, and he lifted his hips, grinding his cheeks against the other man’s cock and prompting a low hiss at the back of his neck.

It didn’t take long for Rhys to cum after that, rutting into Jack’s mattress and spilling all over his expensive silk sheets. Jack followed soon after, and Rhys grimaced as he felt the cum seep through the fabric of his shirt and stick onto his skin.

Jack lifted himself off of Rhys once he regained his breath, and Rhys moved to crawl out from underneath him, silently lamenting the state of his clothes. And it had been such a nice outfit, too.

He swung one leg over the side of the bed and yelped in shock when he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist before pinning him back onto the mattress. Jack crawled over him once more and nipped at the tender flesh above his collarbone, the small bites much more delicate than the first one on his neck, but still painful enough that it made Rhys wince.

“What … what are you doing?”

“Marking you, _obviously_. What the hell does it look like?”

Rhys just stared, dumbfounded. He wanted to say something, but was too tired to think of anything appropriately snarky. At that point, he was too tired to do much of anything.

Eventually, he closed his eyes, just barely processing the ticklish sensation of Jack sucking on his earlobe as he drifted off to sleep. He vaguely recalled Jack saying something to him as he slipped into unconsciousness: two little words whispered into his ear.

“You’re mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The elevator had just arrived by the time Angel returned to him, her voice quiet and oddly strained despite the privacy of their connection. "Sorry, Rhys," she whispered. "But I'm getting the hell out of here. No way am I sticking around to see this nasty shit. Peace."_  
>   
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [bell](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) ❤   
> (p.s. I'm now sort of, kind of back on [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) too)


	7. Envy pt.III

A raspy groan escaped Rhys's lips as he tossed in bed, blinking at the darkness surrounding him. He brought up the display of his ECHOscreen, frowning as he noted the time, as well as the number of emails that had already piled up throughout the morning.

With some help from his ECHOeye, a quick glance around the room revealed the following:

  * Though he was certain he had still been wearing a few scant pieces of clothing upon falling asleep the night prior, he was now completely nude, save for the thin blanket he was currently huddled under.
  * Jack had apparently disappeared along with his clothes.
  * His whole body felt sore as hell. He was sore in places he didn't even know he had.



With some effort, Rhys finally forced himself to crawl out from beneath the sheets, shivering as the air hit his bare skin. He eventually found a touchpad panel discreetly embedded into the wall and swiped his fingers across its textured surface, the overhead lights instantly flickering to life.

The room was smaller than he had anticipated and barely furnished: the king-sized bed occupied most of it, and what space remained was filled by a multi-paneled wooden cabinet that spanned the width of the room. Rhys belatedly noticed a pile of clothes— _his_ clothes—sitting atop one of the cabinet's shelves, freshly cleaned from the looks of it and neatly folded. He frowned at the uncanny display of courtesy and wondered (with a note of embarrassment) if one of Jack's assistants had crept in while he slept and sorted his mess for him.

As he approached the cabinet, he caught sight of his reflection in the full-length mirror adorning one of the cabinet's many doors, and he watched his own face pale at what he saw.

His body was covered in hickeys. The ugly purple splotches dotted his skin from his neck down to his legs, and Rhys wondered with morbid fascination how Jack had managed to mark him up so thoroughly without disturbing his sleep.

Rhys practically leapt back into his clothing, eyes glued to the floor to avoid looking at himself. A million questions raced through his mind: about Jack, about their heated exchange the night before, about the words Jack had whispered just before Rhys fell asleep. Coming from Jack's mouth, it had sounded like a threat, but instead of fear, the remembrance of it inspired a calm contentedness. He felt ... sated. Maybe even wanted.

Rhys willed the thoughts away; attempting to discern Jack's inner workings through his erratic and often impulsive actions seemed futile at best and foolhardy at worst.

He inspected his fully clothed form, donning every piece of his tuxedo sans the bowtie, which laid abandoned on the cabinet shelf—Jack could keep it for all he cared. His shirt looked surprisingly crisp despite the rough handling it had endured, and he thanked the heavens that its collar was just tall enough to hide the large bite mark at the side of his throat.

The door slid open the moment he approached it, and then slid shut once he cleared the threshold, the lock engaging with an audible click. Rhys sucked in a sharp breath of air as he marveled at Jack's office for the first time, now illuminated by rays of iridescent light from Elpis.

A single desk sat on a raised platform at the very front of the cavernous room, imposing despite the averageness of its size. Elpis loomed from the window behind it, offering the clearest view of the vertical fracture that marred its surface. The office's most ostentatious feature was easily the two busts at the center, both carved in Jack's likeliness. They towered from above, serving as a blockade between the doors and the desk, like stone guardians protecting the king's throne.

With some trepidation, Rhys tiptoed towards Jack's desk, glancing warily at the statues all the while, as if expecting them to come to life at any second. He took a tentative step onto the platform, some of the tension leaving him when the room failed to react to his intrusion.

Rhys circled the perimeter of the desk, maintaining a respectful distance. He carefully kept his eyes off the signed documents strewn across the desk's surface, polished chrome peeking out in the gaps between the piles of paper, and instead focused on the more innocuous items gathered in the corner.

Of particular interest was a simple framed photo, the subject obscured by a gleam of light reflecting off the frame's glass cover. Rhys edged closer and realized that the picture was of a young girl brightly smiling at the camera. Her grin stretched so large that the bumps of her baby teeth showed, her hand forming a peace sign in a perfect, crystallized moment of happiness. He was certain he had never seen her before, and yet she seemed inexplicably familiar to him. Perhaps it was her eyes, wide with delight and shining a beautiful shade of blue.

"Find something interesting there, cupcake?"

Rhys jerked away and then scrambled off the platform altogether, eyes shooting in the direction of the instantly recognizable voice that had suddenly addressed him. Jack stepped out from a hidden entrance off to the side, opposite the bedroom Rhys had emerged from. His brows were drawn together, lips curled downwards in displeasure.

Rhys stuttered, eyes wildly scanning the room as he grasped for something, anything to distract Jack from pursuing his line of questioning. "Um," he said, gesturing to a display in the corner, "What are these exactly?" There was an odd assortment of mystery items collected onto rows of shelves. If Rhys didn't know better, he'd have thought it was a pile of junk.

Though Jack's eyes were still slightly narrowed with suspicion, the wrinkles of his mask smoothed into an appearance of relative calm. "That's my trophy case. I admit it's a little sparse right now, but give it time." His mouth ticked into a smirk as he added, "Then again, seeing as how it's a collection of my conquests, I guess I should put a picture of you in there, huh?" He ended the jab with a childish snicker.

 _What a gentleman_ , Rhys thought, fighting off the urge to roll his eyes.

Jack flopped onto a nearby couch, stretching with an exaggerated groan. Rhys cautiously approached the other man, stopping at the foot of the chair. He belatedly realized that a tray of tea and pastries had been laid out on the glass table facing them, a thin wisp of steam trailing from the teapot's spout.

Jack stared at him expectantly. "What are you, my waiter? Sit down already. And grab a muffin or something before you burn the, like, 1% of fat still remaining on your body."

Rhys begrudgingly did as he was instructed, grabbing a blueberry muffin from the platter and nibbling at its edges. Jack watched as he scooted into the opposite corner of the couch, eyeing him with an amused wariness, as though he were a cute little creature that had somehow found its way into his home. Finally, Jack asked, "So how, exactly, did someone like you end up at Hyperion?"

Rhys swallowed a bite of muffin, quirking a brow at him. "Someone like me?" he repeated, slowly.

"Yeah, you know." Jack lifted a hand and gestured at the entire length of Rhys's body. "Judging by looks alone, I'd have figured you'd fit in better with those peacocks over at Maliwan."

Rhys sputtered in indignation, choking on his food in the process. His face was thoroughly flushed by the time his coughing fit ended. He cleared his throat. "I ... I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you do." Jack leaned towards him, looking thoroughly entertained. "Pretty little thing like you would've had it easy at that orgyfest of a company. And yet here you are."

Jack then fell quiet as he awaited Rhys's reply, his demeanor growing more serious as the seconds ticked by in silence. Rhys set his half-eaten muffin down on his lap, turning to face the other man fully. He knew his answer, but as with all things, he was uncertain how Jack would react.

"It's the seniority at Hyperion. It's ... different here than in other companies." Jack's eyes widened with interest, which Rhys took as encouragement to continue. "Even at Maliwan, it'd take years to sleep your way to a respectable position. The hierarchy is too rigid. But at Hyperion, it's possible to go all the way to the top, practically overnight." Rhys met Jack's gaze, now darkening with some indecipherable emotion. "You're proof of that."

"True enough," Jack replied tersely, a thread of hostility lining his voice. "So that's it, huh? You wanna be the top boss someday?"

Rhys chose his next words carefully, sensing the sudden shift in Jack's mood. "I'm not so sure anymore," he admitted. "I think I did when I first arrived. But now that you're CEO..." He paused to swallow, finding this last part particularly difficult to confess. "Even just having the chance to work with you feels like ... like a privilege. You're inspiring in a way that Tassiter never was." Rhys ducked his head once he was finished, immensely embarrassed by his own gushing.

Jack was silent for a long, torturous moment before his lips at last curved into a slow, predatory smile. "You're damn right I am." He casually reached over to the table and picked up a fork, using it to spear an apple slice sitting idly on the breakfast tray. "How do you always know the exact right words to say to tickle my ego?" he asked as he swung the fork over to Rhys. "Seriously, it's like a gift. I'm already at half-mast." He let the fruit hover in front of Rhys's face before bringing it even closer, prodding the valley between his lips. "Open up, princess," he goaded in a low, inviting tone.

Reluctantly, Rhys parted his mouth and felt the warmth return to his cheeks as Jack shoved the apple into him. Jack grinned as he chewed, looking all too pleased. "You and me, Rhysie? We're gonna have a lot of fun together."

Jack patted him on the knee, choosing not to elaborate on his cryptic statement, and yet again, Rhys found himself wondering what, exactly, was running through the other man's head.

* * *

Jack's apparent train of thought became much clearer to Rhys when he arrived at the door of his office Monday morning. He came to a screeching halt, anchored to his spot upon noticing that his name and title had been scraped clean off the silver nameplate adjacent to the doorframe. A cold weight settled in his chest as he wondered at the implications. Perhaps he had given Jack the wrong answer after all.

Warmth gathered at his temple. "Rhys?"

He shuffled to a quiet corner of a nearby hallway, feeling almost feverishly lightheaded. "Angel?" he asked, his voice small. "What ... What's going on?"

Angel drew a breath of air, but stopped herself before any words escaped. Eventually, she asked, "Have you checked your email?"

Rhys immediately brought up his inbox on his ECHOscreen, eyes widening upon seeing the rows and rows of congratulatory emails from peers and subordinates alike. He scrolled through the list with increasing urgency before finally zeroing in on an email HR sent to him in the early hours of the morning, informing him of his promotion to...

Rhys's jaw dropped, eyes glued to the first line of the email. "Holy shit."

"Yup," Angel said, her voice sounding oddly strained. "I'm guessing Jack didn't tell you. Your assistant was supposed to walk you to your new office, but he's ... running late."

Rhys's mind was so numb from shock that he barely picked up on the note of disdain in Angel's tone. "Wait. I have an assistant?"

"It comes with the title. Normally, I would ask that you be kind to him, but..." Angel trailed off with a sigh. "You'll see."

Though the short journey to the executive floor was not unfamiliar to Rhys, his experience of it changed drastically with the knowledge that he was no longer a mere visitor. His new office was located in the heart of the east wing, neighboring the main elevator bank and the recreational facilities that lay beyond it. The office itself was nearly as large as his penthouse, complete with a bar in one corner, a fireplace lounge in the other, and his office proper on the opposite end of the excessively spacious room.

Loader Bot quietly stood a short distance away from his desk, fedora and hat rack sign now conspicuously missing from its metal frame. As if in answer to his unspoken question, Loader Bot lifted his hand and pointed to a rectangular badge taped to his chest that simply read "bodyguard" in type font.

「YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO GOT A PROMOTION.」

Rhys grinned and gave him a thumbs up, a gesture which the bot eagerly returned. "Congrats, buddy. I always thought you were wasted as furniture."

「AGREED. AND THAT FEDORA DID NOT DO YOU ANY FAVORS.」

"Hey," Rhys said, huffing in faux annoyance. "That fedora looked terrible on everyone. And that includes you."

「THAT'S A VERY RUDE THING TO SAY.」

Rhys ignored the bot's complaints and spun around in a slow circle, taking another long look at the entirety of his office before finally approaching his desk. He was unsurprised to find a crisp, handwritten letter carefully placed beside his keyboard, the elegant stationery instantly recognizable, despite his memory of it being a year old.

> Heya Rhysie,
> 
> How sweet is this office, right? I was planning to put a big honking portrait of yours truly right on the wall across from your desk, but it'll just pale in comparison to the real thing.
> 
> By the way,

He was interrupted by a loud knock on the door. Rhys glanced up to invite the newcomer inside, but they let themself in before he had a chance to.

A man strode in, his eyes hungrily roaming across every inch of the office as he nodded his approval. He had a square jaw that was mostly obscured by a carefully trimmed beard, and slick, jet black hair that was neatly parted to the side. As he approached, the man flashed him a smile that was somehow devoid of all warmth or charm.

Rhys did not know this man. He had the distinct impression that he did not want to know him.

"Nice to meet you," the man said, offering his hand. Rhys reluctantly shook it. "Name's Vasquez. Your new assistant?"

"Oh." Rhys replied, a sinking feeling in his chest. " _Oh_."

Vasquez stood tall, his gaze sweeping across the room once more. "I gotta say, Rhys, I'm a big fan of this office." He eventually spotted Loader Bot, who waved. "Nice toy you got there."

"Umm ... thanks."

Vasquez returned his attention to the varnished wood of Rhys's desk, eyes landing on a small, gold-coated plate sitting at the corner, letters carved deep into its surface. "VP of Information Security," Vasquez read aloud, an undercurrent of bitterness in his tone. "I suppose congratulations are in order." He glanced up at Rhys through slightly narrowed eyes. "It's not every day that Handsome Jack creates a brand new title for someone. He must ... like you quite a bit."

Rhys cocked a brow at the bold (albeit true) accusation implicit in his words. He had gotten so accustomed to flattery and sycophantic praise that Vasquez's blatant unlikability felt almost refreshing.

Almost.

"To be fair," Rhys said, a taut smile straining his lips, "I don't think Handsome Jack genuinely _likes_ anyone. Not even executives like me. And certainly not lowly assistants."

Rhys felt his chest swell with malicious glee when the other man's smarmy smirk transformed into a naked scowl. He courteously cleared his throat before adding, "I don't have any tasks for you at the moment, but I'll buzz you when I do."

"I look forward to it," Vasquez replied through gritted teeth. He promptly marched out of the room, slamming the door shut with a little more force than necessary.

Rhys spun in his swivel chair, turning to face Loader Bot. "What a guy, right?"

「HE IS RATHER UNPLEASANT. YOU SHOULD MAKE HIM THE NEW HAT RACK.」

Rhys snorted, barely managing to stifle a cruel laugh. "I don't know about that. The grease on his hair might ruin any hat I put on him."

He turned back to his desk and picked up the letter from where he had abandoned it on his lap, resuming where he had left off.

> By the way, the lady who was originally gonna be your assistant is in the medical bay for severe allergies or some stupid shit, so Wallethead took her place. I recommend using him as a personal punching bag. Go nuts.
> 
> Anyway, welcome to the big boy's table, kid. Try not to screw it up.
> 
> -Jack

_Wallethead?_  Rhys thought, mentally filing away the odd nickname for future reference. He tossed the letter back onto his desk, folding his hands behind his head as he sunk into the extra comfy cushions of his chair.

He could definitely get used to this.

* * *

"So I haven't been entirely honest with you." Rhys spared Aiden a sideways glance, noting how his cheerful expression shifted to something more uncertain. The fact that he was doing this in the medical bay during Aiden's break just made him feel all the worse.

"Uh oh," Aiden said, forcing an upbeat tone. "Is this the part where you turn out to be a serial killer who's just pretending to be Rhys?"

Rhys chuckled nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck as he turned away to face the window in front of him. "Nope. This is the part where I tell you that I'm, um ... that I'm actually kind of seeing someone else right now." He internally cringed at his ridiculous wording. It felt like something his teenaged self might have said.

"Oh," Aiden replied after a long pause, his voice much quieter than before.

Rhys continued to stare straight ahead, eyes trailing one of the many Hyperion satellites orbiting Pandora. "Things are kind of complicated right now," Rhys said, rambling to fill the awkward silence. "He and I were sort of arguing a couple weeks back, on the day that I asked you to the party, and we're not really in a serious relationship, so I guess I thought it would be okay if I-"

"Rhys," Aiden said, causing him to instantly snap his mouth shut. "You don't have to explain it to me. We're adults now. I get it." His tone was gentle despite the bluntness of his words. Rhys finally risked a glance at him, a bittersweet pain filling his chest upon seeing the look of sad fondness on his face.

Aiden sighed, ducking his head as he ran his fingers through the short locks of his hair. "I should've known. It's just my luck, really." Rhys opened his mouth once more, intending to blurt out a string of apologies, but before he could, Aiden added, "If you don't mind my asking, who's the lucky guy?"

"...He's one of the other executives," Rhys replied, the words leaving a sour taste on his tongue. It wasn't technically a lie, but it felt like one.

Aiden's brows bumped up in surprise. He turned to face Rhys, their eyes finally meeting. "Wow. In that case, I can't blame you. I'd probably dump me for him too."

"Don't ... don't say that," Rhys mumbled, the awful pain in his chest only growing worse.

Aiden's lips curved into a small smile. "You really are amazing, Rhys. Especially considering everything that you ... that you've been through." Rhys tensed at the subtle allusion, sensing the buried memories pulsing at the back of his mind. After a moment of hesitation, Aiden thankfully toed away from the topic. "Sorry if this comes off as weird, but I'm ... I'm _proud_ of you, man. Not everyone can do what you've done."

Rhys shrugged, embarrassed by the compliments. "It's a lot easier to be successful in a place that you actually belong in. And for better or worse, I think this place suits me."

"Ha. I wish I could say the same." Aiden let out a weary sigh, his smile faltering. "I mean, I heard plenty of horror stories before coming here, and I wish I could say I knew what I was getting into. But ... on the worst days, I feel like I'm back on Tantalus." Rhys nodded mutely as Aiden fell quiet once more. He had never seen the trauma ward of Hyperion and prayed he'd never have to.

An idea crept into his head, though Rhys wondered, selfishly, whether he should voice it. With a heavy heart, he eventually cleared his throat and said, "You know, I've heard Eden-6 has a lot of really well-funded hospitals, definitely nicer than anything you'll find in this galaxy. The medical community in Atropos is supposed to be especially good." Aiden quirked a brow in curiosity, seeming unsure of what he was suggesting.

Rhys continued, deciding to go for a more direct approach. "I'm not sure what types of jobs are available in that city right now, but with a personal recommendation from a Hyperion executive, I'm sure you could find something."

Aiden's eyes went wide as Rhys's intentions became clear to him. "Are you sure?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. "Won't you, like, get in trouble for that or something?"

"This is Hyperion," Rhys replied with a wry smile. "I'm sure something far more sinister than this is happening right as we speak. No one will notice, not even HR. I guarantee it."

Aiden chewed on his bottom lip as he mulled over the offer, the worry lines on his forehead gradually smoothing out as the seconds ticked by. Finally, he answered, "I have no idea how I could ever pay you back for this."

Rhys grinned. "Well, if I ever get shot, I'll know who to call."

Aiden turned fully towards him, arms reaching out as though to embrace him. He stopped, suddenly, and after a short pause, he offered his hand instead. "Thank you, Rhys."

Rhys took the other man's hand in his, fighting to keep a smile on his lips. They briefly discussed the logistics of the plan; if Rhys sent a few emails later that night, then Aiden could very well be on his way to Eden-6 by the end of the month.

Aiden said his goodbyes with no more than a casual wave of his hand. Rhys swallowed at the tight knot in his throat as he watched his retreating back.

He felt Angel's warmth at his temple once Aiden was far enough away. "Are you sure about this?" she asked, worry apparent in her voice. "I can't help but think that this might be a mistake. I mean, he's just so ... so _nice_. I think he'd be good for you."

 _Better for you than Jack is._  The message went unspoken, yet Rhys heard it all the same.

Rhys took one last look before walking in the opposite direction, towards the elevators that would carry him back to the executive floor.

"Yeah," he replied. "I know."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _「I WROTE A POEM IN CELEBRATION OF OUR ASCENDANCE THROUGH THE RANKS.」_
> 
> _Rhys leaned back in his chair. Now this he had to hear. "Lay it on me, buddy."_
> 
> _「HERE IT GOES.」_
> 
> _「...」_
> 
> _「STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM」_   
>  _「NOW WE'RE HERE」_   
>  _「STARTED FROM THE BOTTOM」_   
>  _「NOW MY WHOLE TEAM'S HERE」_
> 
>    
> Song for this chapter: [Sky Ferreira - You're Not the One](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFCZP1Nz3Ds)
> 
> So I'm going on vacation (to the Philippines and Japan) over the next two weeks, and I will almost certainly not be writing while I'm gone. Apologies in advance if it's a while before the next update! Feel free to follow me on Twitter if you feel like being jealous of my vacation photos. ;D
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	8. Interlude pt.I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now for something completely different.

OPENING DAILYREVIEW.EXE...  
ACCESSING OPPORTUNITY PROJECT UPDATE...

From: Flora Bellarue on behalf of Handsome Jack  
To: All Hyperion (Group)  
Subject: REMINDER: Open Application Period for Opportunity Housing

The Opportunity project management team will begin reviewing volunteer applications at the end of the month. Please respond to this email with your completed application forms (attached) by EOW to be considered.

All questions regarding project participation and housing availability should be directed to Rose Perks [a href="mailto:[rperks@hyperion.com](mailto:rperks@hyperion.com)"] in PM.

Flora Bellarue  
Executive Assistant to the CEO  
xxx-7465 ext. 001

ACCESSING HIDDEN FILE NUMBER 5733...  
TRANSLATING TEXT...  
TRANSLATION COMPLETE

To the leader of the Hyperion Corporation,

In response to your previous inquiry: though we appreciate your curiosity in regards to the Order, its internal structure, and rules of governance, we unfortunately do not allow foreign visitation of any kind.

Please note: any Hyperion vessel found entering the Athenas airspace will be found in violation of our intergalactic pact and thus be subject to the laws of our military tribunal.

Lastly: we know that you have been watching us, Handsome Jack. We have also been watching you.

Brother Fenly  
High Chancellor of the First Chamber  
The Order of the Impending Storm

<!-- ooh how ominous -->  
<!-- jack won't be happy about this one -->

ACCESSING HIDDEN FILE NUMBER 5734...  
PROCESSING ENCRYPTION KEY...  
PROCESSING...

[18:13:05] Can you hear me?  
[18:13:13] We can hear you just fine.  
[18:13:21] Good. There's been some ... developments.  
[18:13:29] Anything that we can use? Attacking head-on has gotten us nowhere. We need to find something of value, and fast.  
[18:13:41] I agree. And I have a hunch that Jack's hiding something in Opportunity—something big.  
[18:13:50] That Hyperion settlement on Pandora? All that place seems to have is half-built houses and ridiculous statues of Jack.  
[18:14:01] There's definitely something else. And now, I should be able to get more information from-

FILE CLOSED  
DELETE FILE NUMBER 5734?  
DELETING...  
FILE DELETED

OPENING //INTERNAL FILES/EXECUTIVES/HANDSOME JACK/CALENDAR/AGENDA.ICMI...

8:45 Daily PA Announcement  
9:00 Monthly Executives Meeting  
11:00 Call with Opportunity Investors  
12:00 Discussion on New Eridium Mining Sites  
13:00 Lunch Meeting with Blake  
14:00 Product Demo Showcase: Face Time  
16:00 Review Mining Contracts  
17:00 1:1 with Rhys

Declined Meetings:  
Status Update on Q3 Sales Goals  
Monthly Competitor Debrief with R&D  
Review Q4 Budget Plan (All Departments)

OPENING //INTERNAL FILES/EXECUTIVES/RHYS/CALENDAR/AGENDA.ICMI...

9:00 Monthly Executives Meeting  
11:00 Review Q4 Budget Plan (All Departments)  
12:00 Lunch Meeting with Bradley and Priscilla  
13:00 Debrief on ECHOnet Service Vendors  
14:00 Discuss Q4 Hiring Goals  
15:30 Sync Up on Critical Defect UA895  
17:00 1:1 with Jack  
18:00 Review Meeting Minutes with Vasquez

Declined Meetings:  
Sales Call with Microchip Suppliers  
Weekly InfoSec Department Meeting  
Product Demo Showcase: Face Time  
Monthly IT / InfoSec Meeting

ANALYZING DATA...  
ANALYZING...  
PROCESSING REPORT...  
REPORT COMPLETE

**Jack ******

  
**Fatigue:** 90%  
**Stress Level:** 7  
**Overall Mood:** Below Average  
**Pain Points:** One of the Opportunity investors is backing out, and the product demo presentations did not go smoothly.  
**Summary:** He doesn't have much patience today. Be careful, but direct when speaking to him.

**Rhys**

  
**Fatigue:** 65%  
**Stress Level:** 3  
**Overall Mood:** Average  
**Pain Points:** Jack was cranky during their 1:1 so now Rhys is annoyed with him. And Vasquez was as unpleasant as ever.  
**Summary:** Typical Rhys.

<!-- stress level 7 for jack, yikes -->  
<!-- hopefully he'll forget to check in with me... -->

CONNECTING TO FLOOR 2, EAST WING, BLOCK 3-1...

Rhys.

...

Hey, Angel.

Rough day?

Nah, just the usual crap. But I bet you already know that, right?

Well, you don't need to be an advanced AI to see how much of a pain Vasquez is to you.

Ugh, honestly, it's kind of amazing how he manages to find new ways to annoy me every single day.

At our meeting a little while ago, he insinuated that my hair looks like a wig. Which is real rich, coming from him.

You know you're allowed to fire him, right? You're his boss, even if he doesn't treat you like one.

As much as I'd love to, I'm too busy right now to train a new assistant from scratch.

And I have to admit, his work has been weirdly solid so far.

Hmm.

Maybe you could trade assistants with someone? I doubt Jack would have a problem with that.

You sure? Considering what a gigantic asshole he's been these past few days, I'm pretty certain that just having an opinion is enough to set him off.

What do you mean? That sounds like Jack's default behavior to me.

Ha.

Well, he's been worse than usual. I can barely get a word in without him saying something snide.

I mean, I normally find Jack's moodiness kinda hot, but lately, he's just been annoying.

He tends to get like this when things aren't going his way. Give him a few days.

Also: ew.

Ew yourself.

My thoughts on Jack's attractiveness aren't changing any time soon, so you may as well get used to hearing them.

Never. Your thoughts are gross. You're gross.

I bet he'll still be hot even when he's fifty.

Oh my god, Rhys, stop.

I just hope he'll be able to maintain his muscles. A ripped, hot old ma-

**—"Angel."**

...

Angel?

Speak of the devil. Sorry, Rhys. Gotta go.

Oh.

Ohhh. Good luck.

Thanks. I'll need it.

CONNECTING TO FLOOR 1, BLOCK 1-1...

Yes, Jack?

What, were you buffering or something?

...Sir?

I'm saying that it took a freakin' century for you to respond to my call.

Sorry, sir. I was doing surveillance on the lower levels.

And? You find anything interesting down there?

I caught Chaz badmouthing you to a few members of the board.

Yeah, cool, who gives a shit. Tell me something I don't already know.

Well ... I think one of the supply chain managers is purposefully redirecting some of our raw materials from the usual shipment routes.

It's a small amount, small enough that it nearly escaped my notice.

But I tracked the coordinates, it looks like most of the missing shipping crates are landing near Sanctuary.

See, now _that_ is interesting!

That is exactly the kind of conniving, backstabbing thievery that I want you sniffing out for me. Alright, sweetheart?

Of course, sir.

Find out the names of every single miserable lowlife involved with that deal. On both Helios and Pandora.

Yes, sir.

Oh, and send the list to Flora too. She'll need to make preparations on her end as well. I'm sure I don't have to spell that one out for you, do I?

No, sir.

Good.

...

...

Hey, Angel.

...Yes?

What do you think of Rhys?

...Rhys?

Yeah, you know. Lanky, kinda nerdy, decent looking face?

Yes, I ... I'm aware of who you're referring to.

So?

Well, from what I've observed ... he's motivated by power and success, just like everyone else, but he differs in that he's earnest in managing his responsibilities.

And when he's sincerely fond of someone, he has a tendency to remain loyal to them.

In that regard, he seems to ... like you quite a bit.

Heh.

Noticed, huh?

...

Keep an eye out for him. Especially when he's dealing with people like Chaz.

He's still kinda new and is known to do stupid crap from time to time, so try to keep him from fucking up too badly. Okay?

Yes, sir.

...

Is that all, sir?

Yeah, yeah, that's all I got.

You're sending your reports to me, right?

Yes, they should finish processing within the hour.

Alright.

Off you go then.

DISCONNECTING FROM THE HELIOS NETWORK...  
DISCONNECTING...  
DISCONNECTED


	9. Gluttony pt.I

"I propose we make a drinking game of this meeting. Take a sip each time Jack rolls his eyes at something a bank rep says."

Rhys smirked at Bradley's suggestion before offering one of his own. "Take another sip whenever Blake sighs and mutters about our profits."

"We could probably empty an entire flask in the first half hour."

The two of them were slowly making their way to the dreaded investors meeting. Needless to say, they were taking the long way around so as to arrive at the last possible minute.

"We probably _will_ need a drink after this meeting," Rhys said as they rounded the corner that housed the almost comically extravagant gym on their floor. "Judging by our last meeting, it'll take a small miracle to wring any extra money from those Demophon bankers."

"I'm not so certain," Bradley replied, his lips curving in a sudden frown. "If anyone can pull off a miracle, it's likely Jack."

Rhys raised a brow at the other man in inquiry. "That's ... surprisingly high praise. I mean, I was starting to think that you don't like Jack very much." He belatedly realized that he had said the last part of his statement in a hushed tone, despite their relative isolation.

"To be fair, the CEO of a company like Hyperion is probably not meant to be someone likable," Bradley replied with a wry smirk. "But it's difficult, with Jack. I've spent countless hours around him these past eighteen months—honestly, I probably talk to him more often than I speak with my own wife-" Rhys sent the other man a pitying nod. How bleak. "And I still can't get a good read on him. I mean, between his awful naming sense and his, frankly, _insane_ PA announcements, there are times when I think he might just be some blowhard." Bradley pinched his brows together, grimacing at his own words. "And every time I'm ready to write him off completely, he goes and does something ... honestly brilliant."

Rhys spared him a quick sideways glance, sensing an odd tension in the air. Bradley dissipated it with a shake of his head, a small smile reclaiming his lips. "But enough about our lauded CEO. How are you holding up? From what I've seen, the security enhancements have been going extremely well."

Rhys stood a little taller at the mention of his recent successes. "Things have been going way more smoothly. The hacking attempts have almost completely stopped, as have any information leaks." Rhys couldn't help a grin as he went on to say, "Though our countermeasures are so effective now that I almost wish things weren't so quiet."

"Yes," Bradley slowly replied, deliberately elongating the word. "I wonder about that." After a heavy pause, he continued, gaze hesitantly flicking in Rhys's direction, "It's odd, isn't it? That the hackers always know exactly when and where to hit us hardest."

"Is it?" Rhys asked, not liking the implication buried in Bradley's words.

"There's the chance that it really is a coincidence, but in this business? I wouldn't bet on it, if I were you." The two of them rounded the last corner, forcing them to curtail their conversation. Bradley placed his palm flat against the scanner. "Ready for the snake pit?" he asked just before the doors slid open with a hiss. Jack was already inside, his eyes narrowing at the two of them from his place at the head of the table.

Rhys suppressed a groan. This meeting was going to _suck_.

* * *

As always, things didn't quite turn out the way Rhys expected. Despite Jack glaring murderously at everyone in the room for the entire first half of the meeting, the tide of the conversation had changed tremendously throughout the second half, shifting Jack's temperament along with it. With considerable assistance from Chaz, the two men had somehow managed to schmooze the investors into signing new contracts—ones with considerably larger price tags.

Jack ended the conference call with the press of a button. "Well, that wasn't a _total_  shitshow. No thanks to Ms. Legalese over here." He directed a pointed stare at Iris, their Chief Legal Officer, who sat on his immediate left. "What do I even pay you for? I thought you were supposed to help me _do_ things, not bust my balls every five frickin' seconds."

Iris responded with a cool, collected smirk. "You pay me to appease the army of attorneys that would otherwise be knocking on your door. It's Blake who helps you actually do things."

Blake opened his mouth but whatever he intended to say was swallowed by a long, tired sigh. Jack brushed her comment off with a flippant wave of his hand. "Yeah, yeah, great help you lot are. Congrats on not mucking things up. Now get the hell out."

Rhys moved to quickly gather his things, but stopped when Jack went on to say, "Ah, ah, ah. Rhys, _you_  stay."

Rhys lingered behind as everyone else scurried out of the room, Bradley mouthing "good luck" to him before exiting. Once all the other executives had left, Rhys cautiously approached the head of the table, feeling the weight of the other man's gaze with each step. He ventured a small smile as he stopped at the foot of Jack's chair. "I have no idea how you managed that. It's like you and Chaz hypnotized them."

"Please," Jack replied with a scoff. "That was aaaaall me, babe. Chaz is just a whiny sidekick." He frowned, looking suddenly put out. "Do you know what that jackhole said to me before the meeting? He said, 'these are my accounts so I should lead this meeting.'" He threw his hands up in the air, as though it were the most ridiculous suggestion he had ever heard. "Can you believe it? The balls on that guy. I almost wish he weren't so damn good at his job so that I could finally beat his ass to death."

Jack rolled his eyes as his voice dropped an octave, adopting the smarmiest tone he could muster. " _Jack, you engineering folk just don't get people the way us sales guys do. Now excuse me while I go give handjobs to all our top clients._ "

Rhys snorted out a laugh. From what he had observed, Jack only did his ridiculous accents and impersonations when he was either in a very good mood or a very bad one. Considering how their meeting went, Rhys assumed it was the former.

Jack's mouth stretched into a grin, seemingly pleased with his reaction. He rolled his chair out from under the table, beckoning to Rhys with a lone finger. "C'mere."

Rhys accepted the invitation with little hesitation, swinging his leg over Jack's and straddling the other man's lap. In retrospect, it was a little funny how clandestine their little affair had been before he became an executive. Now, things were considerably more casual. Relaxed, even.

If Rhys were totally honest with himself, it felt kind of ... nice.

Jack bent downwards, peeling the collar of Rhys's shirt back as he lightly traced the ridge of his collarbone with his lips. Rhys shuddered into the touch, arms automatically wrapping around the back of Jack's neck as the man nipped at the crook of his neck.

Jack stopped, suddenly, mouth resting against his skin. "I have to say," he murmured, voice unusually soft, "I'm kind of impressed." He leaned back to stare Rhys straight in the eye, an oddly amused expression on his face. "Not that you're _totally_  incompetent, but I half-expected you to screw up by now. Maybe accidentally get someone killed or something, I dunno."

Rhys let out an exasperated puff of air through his nose. "You know, you really have a knack for both complimenting and insulting me at the same time."

"Oh, I have a knack for a _lot_  of things, kid. You should know." Jack dipped his hand beneath the fabric of Rhys's shirt, eliciting a gasp as he fingered the still-sore mark he had left just above his shoulder a few days prior. Rhys instinctively tried to jerk away from the intrusive touch, but Jack's other arm remained firmly wrapped around his waist, anchoring him to the spot.

Jack lolled his head back against the cushions of his chair, an inscrutable emotion reflected in his eyes. Rhys regarded him curiously, breath caught in his throat as he awaited the other man's next move.

"I'm assigning you to a new project."

Rhys blinked. "Huh?" he blurted. Whatever he had been expecting ... it definitely wasn't _that_.

Jack's smirk widened, seeming more amused than ever. "You earned it, princess. I'll get one of my assistants to debrief you tomorrow." Without any further explanation, Jack once more buried his face in the curve of Rhys's neck, resuming his previous ministrations.

Rhys chewed on his bottom lip, suppressing a moan as the other man's teeth sunk into a particularly tender spot. He closed his eyes and pushed his nagging questions to the back of his mind. He'd get his answers ... eventually.

* * *

"He's sending me to fucking Pandora." Rhys sniffled miserably and snuggled further into his blankets, which were bundled around him like a cocoon. "No wonder he didn't tell me on the spot!"

He could hear the bemusement in Angel's voice. "So I heard. You'll be staying in Opportunity, right?"

"Apparently. It sounds like I'll just be keeping an eye on the security system there while Jack and a bunch of other people go to New Haven for a couple days." Rhys huffed. "Which isn't exactly the glamorous, high-profile project I had been hoping for. I can't even brag about it to Vasquez."

Rhys lifted a brow in concern when his complaining failed to elicit a reaction. "Um, Angel? You okay?"

After a short pause, she replied, "Yes, I just ... I have a lot on my mind."

Rhys smiled at the peculiar answer. It struck him as an odd, atypical thing for an AI to say—not that anything about Angel was typical. "Like what?"

"Well, have you ever been to Pandora? It's quite different from Helios."

Rhys snorted. "I noticed. And no, I haven't, but I'm quite aware of ... Pandoran culture." That garnered a warm laugh, and despite his mood, Rhys couldn't help a smile at the sound of it. "I'll be bringing Loader Bot along for the trip. He _is_ my bodyguard, after all."

"Well, that's a relief. No offense, but I don't think you'd last a day on Pandora on your own."

"Hey!" Rhys said, glaring at the ceiling in mock indignation. "I can totally take care of myself. I even know how to shoot a pistol!" After a hesitant pause, he added, "Well, I mean, I'm not amazing at it or anything, but still. The point is that I know how to do it!"

"Yes, I'm sure the denizens of Pandora will be trembling in fear at the sight of you."

Rhys rolled over to his side with a pout, burying his face into his pillow. "I don't need this abuse right now, okay."

As much as he hated to admit it, secretly, Rhys did feel a tiny bit worried. He had been living in luxury long enough that the idea of being surrounded by violence and squalor almost felt foreign to him.

_I'll be fine_ , he reassured himself. He could totally handle Pandora.

And honestly, how bad could it be?

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Rhys said, his frown deepening. He could feel the beginnings of a headache and his journey had yet to even begin. "I step into this shipping crate. And then Loader Bot and I get put into a ... a space bullet."

Vasquez nodded, appearing much too pleased for Rhys's liking. "It's not a shipping crate, it's a moonshot container. Have a little more respect." As an afterthought, he added, "...Sir."

Rhys decided not to bother with a retort, only responding to the remark with an unsubtle roll of his eyes. "Then the container crashes somewhere that's only kind of near Opportunity, and I'll have to drive the rest of the way?"

"Bingo." Vasquez fixed him with a smirk so slimy that Rhys felt ill just looking at it. "Try not to scratch the paint on the way down, will you? This baby just got a fresh coat." Vasquez lovingly patted the shiny hood of the jet black convertible, which had already been loaded into the container.

Loader Bot was perched in the backseat, the upper half of his body emerging through the car's opened roof. His red eye whirred, swerving from Rhys, to Vasquez, then back again.

「I APPROVE OF THIS METHOD OF TRANSPORT.」

"Yeah," Rhys muttered. "Well, you're not the one who has to worry about getting squashed upon landing."

Reluctantly, Rhys boarded the container, claiming his seat behind the steering wheel. Vasquez stared down at them from just beyond the container's edge, his expression bordering on a sneer. "Have fun in the boonies, Rhys. Try not to catch a disease while you're down there."

"And _you_  try not to stink up my office with that cheap cologne of yours. That bargain bin stuff makes me gag."

Rhys relished in the way his insult made the muscles in Vasquez's face become noticeably more taut. Vasquez wordlessly spun on his heel and approached a nearby console, activating the mechanism that would load their container into the cannon.

The clanging of metal-on-metal filled his ears as the apparatus surrounding them groaned to life. Through the narrow gaps in the walls, Rhys could see mechanical arms stretching and contracting all around them, drilling extra plating to the outside of their container. The platform they were resting on began to ascend, and through the noise, he heard Vasquez yell, "Did you know that the psychos eat people? 'Cause they do! Look it up!"

Rhys flipped his middle finger in the direction of Vasquez's voice, wishing the other man was able to see it. If there was one good thing about going to Pandora, it was definitely that Vasquez wasn't coming with.

There was a loud click as their container locked into place, and Rhys felt a spike of anxiety at the realization that he was about to be catapulted into space. "Sorry if I scream," he said over his shoulder.

「IT IS FINE. NOTHING YOU DO SURPRISES ME ANYMORE.」

The cannon fired with no more warning than a harsh rattle, the reverberation strong enough to send Rhys's teeth chattering. Rhys felt his back slam against his chair from the force of the shot, an invisible pressure pinning his body to his seat. He opened his mouth to yell something at Loader Bot, but all that would come out was an odd, strangled yelping noise.

Then, all at once, the pressure dissipated and was replaced with a dream-like weightlessness. He felt himself begin to float and strapped his seatbelt across his chest to keep himself grounded; from behind, he heard Loader Bot's head thud against the roof of their container.

Rhys let out a long, shaky breath. "This ... actually isn't as bad as I thought it would be." Other than the occasional tremor and the dull roar of space whizzing past them, the ride itself was surprisingly smooth. "How long do we have until we land?"

「HOW SHOULD I KNOW? I'M NOT A NAVIGATIONAL DEVICE.」

"Geez, I was just asking," Rhys grumbled. "Well, I guess we'll know when we feel the crash."

The white noise from the outside noticeably grew in volume once they hit Pandora's atmosphere. Rhys slotted the key into the ignition, revving the car engine till it growled to life. He peeked back at Loader Bot, who had laid his hands flat against the ceiling, seemingly bracing himself for impact. "Ready for this, buddy?"

「OF COURSE. I WAS BORN READY.」

Rhys _felt_ the landing more than anything, the seatbelt straining painfully against his chest as his whole body lifted upwards, before immediately smacking back down into his seat. The container shook as they skidded against the ground, and suddenly, the walls sheltering them tore off with a burst of arid wind, revealing the hilly, desert landscape beyond.

The tires screeched as the car swerved, a plume of sand particles trailing them. They took off the moment the car righted itself, the internal GPS system flickering into action soon afterwards.

Rhys let out a dry cough, the dust already settling into his lungs. Judging by the position of the sun, there were at least 40 hours of daylight left before it mercifully set.

「THIS IS MY FIRST TRIP ABROAD.」

Rhys glanced at Loader Bot from the rearview mirror. "That's unfortunate. What are your first impressions?"

「THERE'S TOO MUCH SAND.」

"Can't disagree there," Rhys replied with a snort. Though it was his first time on Pandora, something in the air itself felt familiar to him: the dry winds, the grit crunched between his teeth, and the thick, oppressive heat.

As if in answer to their prayers, the sand dunes eventually gave way to grass valleys and rocky outcroppings. In the distance, he could see the glimmer of a blue lake.

Aside from dodging the occasional stalker, the drive was surprisingly uneventful. It felt a bit odd that he had yet to even glimpse another human being. Then again, Rhys reminded himself, Pandora wasn't exactly known for its population density.

Rhys slowed as they neared the mouth of the bridge leading to Opportunity, squinting at the small, dark splotches dotting the horizon. "What the heck is that?" he muttered under his breath. He felt a rush of panic when it occurred to him that a swarm of stalkers might be blocking their path.

After a few seconds, Rhys noticed that the dots didn't appear to be moving. And when they slowed to a stop several meters away from the bridge, it was immediately apparent why.

At least a dozen limp bodies littered the entrance, each laying in a pool of partially dried blood. Many were crumpled in odd positions, some with their knees tucked beneath their bowed torsos, as if they had perished mid-crawl. Judging by their drab, bullet-scorched clothing and the array of poorly-constructed artillery scattered along the ground, each of them wore the appearance of an ... undesirable.

A quick scan with his ECHOeye confirmed what he already knew: nearly all of them were dead, and the few still breathing were only alive in the most literal sense of the word.

"Hey, kiddo, ya made it!"

Jack was halfway across the bridge by the time Rhys noticed his arrival, flanked on both sides by two hulking, heavily armed bodyguards. Rhys and Loader Bot both exited the car, Rhys gingerly sidestepping the corpses as he walked ahead.

Jack spread his arms wide in greeting. "Welcome to Opportunity, princess! Pardon the mess." From the corner of his eyes, Rhys noticed the body nearest to him twitch at the sound of Jack's voice. "These little shitasses try to break-in from time to time. Never make it past the bridge th-"

A loud croak sounded from near Rhys's feet. The dying man, who was laying facedown a few feet from where Rhys stood, shuddered violently as he reached towards Jack and dragged his body forwards by an inch, fingers clawing roughly at the packed dirt.

Jack whistled, a manic gleam in his eyes. "Looks like this guy's still holding on for dear life. Spry one, arentcha?"

Rhys winced at the sharp crack that cut through the air a moment later as the toe of Jack's boot hit the man just beneath his chin, his head whipping backward from the impact. The man fell onto his back, revealing the ghastly sight of his carved chest, rivulets of blood leaking from the open gashes where metal and shrapnel had drilled holes into his flesh. Rhys instinctively shielded his nose with his hand as the stink of iron and rotting meat filled his senses.

Jack towered over the man, crouching forward so that their eyes met, his face hovering from high above. "If you bandits had one iota of intelligence, you'd ask yourselves, 'hurr, maybe getting into this beautiful paradise ain't as easy as it looks?'" Jack chuckled softly at his own crude imitation. He dug the heel of his boot into the man's shoulder, drawing a raspy howl of pain from his chapped, bloodied lips. "But no, you just waltz right through the front gate each time, like idiots! I'm starting to think that you guys _want_  to get all torn up. I mean, if that's your goal, then mission accomplished. Swiss cheese has less holes than you."

The man let out a low, guttural growl as he used his every last remaining bit of strength to lunge forward, hands aiming for Jack's throat. Jack drew his revolver so quick that all Rhys saw was a flash of silver. The bullet went clean through the man's forehead, his lifeless body collapsing at Jack's feet.

A fleck of blood found its way onto Rhys's boot. He frowned at it and scuffed his shoe against the grass, wiping off the offending stain. Both his hands now covered his nose, the smell worse than ever.

Jack grinned at his reaction. He closed the gap between them, unceremoniously kicking the fresh corpse in the process. "Breathe it in, babe," he said as he slung an arm around Rhys's shoulders. "That's the smell of Pandora!"

With assistance from Loader Bot, the bodyguards managed to clear the path. Rhys slunk into the passenger seat of the car, shooting a thumbs up to Loader Bot, who stayed behind to help clean up the bodies.

Jack rubbed his hands as he slipped into the driver's seat. "You're in luck, kid. I'm graciously using my precious free time to give you the grand tour." The engine roared as they took off, and they speedily made their way across the long road leading to the city, the drawbridge automatically lowering for them as they passed. "Admittedly," Jack continued, "Hardly anything is fully built right now, but still. You'll get a glimpse of the vision I have for this place."

"From what I can see, it's a very shiny vision," Rhys quipped, spotting the incredibly reflective windows of the half-finished skyscrapers in the distance.

"It's _sleek_. Modern. You know, the opposite of everything else on this shithole planet."

Jack's inflated eagerness and pride reached dizzying heights once they entered the city proper. He made sure to call Rhys's attention to each point of interest, and to Jack, that was nearly everything in sight. "This spot is empty for now, but we'll eventually build a kind of museum exhibit that tells the story of how I opened the vault. Oh, and _that's_ Opportunity Square! Check out the dashing figure cradling that baby. What a good looking guy."

Rhys saw the luxury apartments he would be staying at, as well as the waterfront district, the space that would someday house the delivery zone, the statue of Jack reading, the partially built statue of Jack stomping on a bandit—he saw so many statues of Jack that they all started to blur together in his memory.

The tour ended at the Hyperion complex, where Jack led him to his temporary office. It was a wide, spacious room that offered a moderately elevated view of the city.

"This one isn't as awesome as your office up on Helios, but the ones we're building later will be right around that level." Jack gestured at the desk in the center, which featured several huge, adjustable monitors. "This workstation is pretty sweet, though."

Jack stepped out soon afterwards to take care of last-minute preparations for New Haven, leaving Rhys to his work. He poked around the system's internal databases, at first judging them as fairly rudimentary and, well, empty.

Rhys frowned to himself, finding his current situation odder than ever. From what he could see, aside from the construction workers and security staff, the city was deserted. What data was there to secure? He dug deeper, urged on by the niggling feeling that he was overlooking something.

When he found the anomaly, Rhys wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. There was a huge amount of data flowing through Opportunity to Helios, originating from a massive, heavily-protected offsite server somewhere out in the Highlands. It both received and transmitted a constant stream of encrypted data. Even on Helios, he hadn't seen anything so large and complex.

Rhys's eyes went huge as the realization hit him all at once, like a crashing wave. Was this ... the server that hosted Angel?

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. "Lunch time, Rhysie!"

Rhys glanced at the time in surprise, only just noticing that a whole hour had passed by since Jack left.

Jack quirked a brow when Rhys failed to react to his arrival, his foot tapping impatiently at the prolonged silence. "Uhh, what's the hold up, pumpkin? Those zeroes and ones more interesting than me?"

Rhys kept his eyes glued to the monitor. "Jack. What the hell is this?"

"What is what?" Rhys could tell from the smug, mischievous lilt in Jack's tone that he knew exactly what he was referring to.

"What is it that you're storing in this gigantic server?" Rhys asked, deciding to cut straight to the point. "Whatever this is, it's obviously the reason why I'm here."

Jack was uncommonly quiet, his eyes slightly narrowed in concentration. He crossed his arms, tilting his head almost playfully. "It's a secret."

Rhys just stared. "Excuse me?"

"It's a secret," he repeated with a slow grin. "But if you're a good boy, then one day I might just tell you."

Before Rhys could react, Jack spun on his heel and stepped through the doorway, motioning for him to follow with a sweep of his arm. "C'mon already, I'm starving!"

Reluctantly, Rhys locked his screen and shuffled out of the room, tracing the other man's footsteps.

Jack was already halfway down the hall by the time he stepped out. "We're gonna feast like kings. I figured it was appropriate, you know, since I ride out to do battle tomorrow." Jack performed an ostentatious bow in Rhys's direction, drawing an amused snort. In the back of his mind, he hoped that Jack's assurance in his own survival was not ill-placed.

"So will it mostly just be me and the construction workers holding down the fort while you're gone?" Considering the nature of Jack's "visit" to New Haven, Rhys figured he'd be taking a significant amount of Opportunity's security staff with him.

"Pretty much, but I called someone in to help you out. Didn't want to overwhelm you with responsibility."

"You called someone in?" Rhys asked, but Jack just smirked, apparently choosing not to elaborate any further.

Upon exiting the building, Rhys headed for the direction of the cafeteria, but came to an abrupt stop when he felt Jack's hand grip his shoulder. "Just follow my lead, kid, since you're clearly lost."

Rhys frowned, brows furrowed in confusion. "You pointed out the cafeteria earlier. Isn't it this way?"

Jack fixed him with a blank stare. "Why in the heck would we go to the cafeteria?"

"...Because it's lunch time?"

Jack blinked. Then he abruptly burst into a hysterical laugh that dragged on for so long that he was doubled over and wheezing by the end of it.

"Oh, Rhys. You just don't get it!" Jack used his finger to wipe a lone tear from where it had begun to pool onto his mask. "The cafeteria is for the _workers_ , sweetie. There's no way we're eating whatever gruel is being served to _them_." Jack chuckled under his breath, snaking his arm around Rhys's waist as he pulled him in the exact opposite direction.

"How was I supposed to know?" Rhys mumbled lamely before slumping his shoulders and allowing himself to be dragged away.

Their meal was about as fantastic as Jack gloated it would be. They ended up at a private dining room near the residential district, and their personal chef had served them so many dishes that Rhys lost count sometime after the fifth course. As always, Jack was a lively conversationalist and deftly steered them from one topic to the next: from work ("Blake sends, like, a million emails whenever I'm out of the office. It's drivin' me  _nuts._ "), to his hobbies ("I'm thinking of taking up the violin."), to his adventures in other galaxies ("I'm banned from entering a few solar systems. Not that I give a shit. All of the planets in 'em are ugly as frig'."), and finally, to a passionate rant about Pandora.

"See, Rhysie," Jack said, wine sloshing in his cupped glass. "Places like _this_ are the key to good propaganda. You can't just give the people something to love! You have to give them something to hate in equal measure." His mouth ticked into a grimace as he clutched the bowl of his glass a little too tightly. "And Pandora is easy to hate."

"You know," Rhys said in a teasing tone, "For someone who hates this planet so much, you sure put a lot of money into it."

If Jack caught onto his sarcasm, he sure didn't show it. He took another swig of alcohol before replying, "That's what makes me such a goddamn hero, babe. I'm giving back to the community."

"The community of murderers and thieves?"

"It's the cross I bear, princess."

The two of them stayed until they finally emptied the bottle of wine. They went their separate ways afterwards, Rhys to his office and Jack to speak with the security team that would be accompanying him to New Haven.

It wasn't until much later that Rhys realized, with sudden, startling clarity, what had just occurred.

If he didn't know better ... he'd have thought that he just went on a _lunch date_ with Handsome Jack.

* * *

"Rhys."

Rhys groggily opened his eyes, grimacing at the thin trail of drool pooling onto the top of his arm. He sat up from his slouched position and squinted at his surroundings.

Apparently, at some point, he had fallen asleep at his desk. And even though the clock on his HUD said that several hours had passed since he dozed off, the sun had only just begun to set. Rhys silently cursed Pandora's lengthy day cycles.

"Rhys," the voice repeated.

"Angel?" He fully straightened his back, blinking the traces of sleep away. "Wow ... so you really  _can_  contact me down here."

"Yup. I can access any Hyperion server or satellite, even ones in other galaxies. It's kind of neat, right?"

Neat was not the first word that came to mind, but Rhys nodded anyway. This extra tidbit of information only helped to confirm his suspicions. After lunch, he had tried to find out as much as he could about the offsite server, but mostly came up empty. If he wanted to find out what it was, it looked like he would need to take a more direct approach.

"You look like you have something you want to say."

Rhys's lips curved into a faint smile. Even after conversing with Angel for over a year, he was still sometimes surprised at how perceptive she was. "I found out that the system here is connected to a Hyperion server out in the Highlands. And I'm pretty sure that server is what Jack wants me to keep an eye on."

After a nervous silence, the only thing Angel managed to say in response was, "Oh."

"Don't 'oh' me," Rhys said, sighing in exasperation. "That's the server you're hosted on, isn't it? I mean, it's obvious, if you think about it." He leaned back in his seat, cocking his brow in expectation as he awaited her answer.

She was so quiet that if it weren't for the warmth hovering at his temple, he might've thought she had fled back to Helios. Eventually, she posed a question of her own. "Do you want see me?" she asked, her voice soft and hesitant.

"Do I ... want to see you?" Rhys repeated the words slowly, confusion etched onto his features.

"I'm not far from Opportunity," she said, growing more confident in tone. "If you take the car, the drive should only be a few minutes."

Rhys worried his bottom lip as he mulled over the offer, unable to stifle his curiosity despite his feeling of unease. On an impulse, he activated his palm's ECHOscreen and opened its map function.

Jack had made it abundantly clear that Angel was not something he wanted anyone to know about. But now that Rhys _did_  know ... what was the harm in seeing the AI with his own eyes?

"Send me the coordinates."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"You're telling me he never wore the fedora?" Jack asked, dismayed. "Not even once?"_
> 
> _「IT LOOKED TERRIBLE ON HIM.」_
> 
> _"Yeah, yeah, it probably did. I've been thinking, d'you think he'd look good in a Stetson? It's a lot more cowboy-y, but-"_
> 
> _「I DO NOT KNOW THIS STETSON YOU SPEAK OF.」_
> 
> _Jack groaned, slapping his palm against his forehead. "You're killin' me here."_
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	10. Gluttony pt.II

Rhys took in a deep breath as a mild breeze ruffled his hair, hitting the gas when the car exited a sharp curve. Pandoran humidity was far more tolerable in the relative cool of night, the harsh terrain seeming somewhat gentler in the shadows. Stars blanketed the sky, though their light appeared faint in the presence of Elpis, looming large and bright. In its foreground was Helios, blotting out the moonlight like a dark brand and forever gazing down at them from a fixed point, high above.

An interruption from his companion in the backseat distracted Rhys from his observations.

「SO ANGEL IS AN AI LIKE ME?」

While sneaking the car out of Opportunity, Rhys had given Loader Bot a basic explanation of why, exactly, they were sneaking out into the Highlands in the dead of the night. "Well, she _is_  an AI, but I wouldn't say she's like you."

「WHY NOT?」

"Well, she's not a Loader Bot, for one. And Angel is also just ... special, I guess." It was obvious to Rhys that, as an AI, Angel was one of a kind. He could only wonder at the wealth of resources it must have taken to create her. He glanced at the GPS, fingers tapping at the steering wheel impatiently as he noted the time remaining till they reached their destination.

「DOES THAT MEAN I AM NOT SPECIAL?」

Rhys lifted his brows, surprised by the hint of offense in the robot's tone. He glanced over his shoulder and sent Loader Bot a pandering smile. "Of course you are, buddy! You're both special."

「AS I THOUGHT. ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD.」

Angel's coordinates led them to what looked like the entrance of a Hyperion military base, one that was clearly still under construction. They slowed to a stop near a staircase that led to a tall, elevated platform, jagged rock jutting out between smooth chrome surfaces, as though the entire complex had been built along a cliff.

"Is ... this it?" Rhys glanced around uncertainly as he stepped out from the parked car. From the looks of it, the facility appeared to be empty.

On queue, he felt Angel's warmth creep in through his neural port. "You're lucky this place is so new. Security will be a lot tighter in a month or two. The only real obstacle left for you is the door lock."

"Are you sure?" Rhys asked, warily eyeing the intimidatingly large machinery dotting the area. "I'm pretty sure most of the equipment here can kill me."

"Don't be such a worrywart! Most of it isn't even activated. And besides, no Hyperion tech would attack an executive of the company." After a pause, she added, "Probably."

"How reassuring," Rhys muttered as he begun ascending the stairs. From below, he heard Loader Bot call out:

「DO NOT WORRY, FRIEND. I WILL GUARD THE ESCAPE VEHICLE WITH MY LIFE.」

Rhys tiptoed through the grounds, feeling more thankful than ever that he and Angel had had the foresight to deactivate the security systems before he left Opportunity. The only thing they couldn't disable remotely was the door directly leading to the building Angel was stored in.

His ECHOeye whirred softly as he scanned the door's lock mechanism. Judging by the scanner and the wiring hidden behind the panels, there was clearly meant to be a bioscan component of the door's security, but thankfully, it was not yet set up.

With his security privileges, getting past the voice authentication prompt had felt almost too easy. As he entered the last few lines of code, with some embarrassment, Rhys typed in the rather curious three-word passphrase Angel had supplied him with.

"So," Rhys said, trying his best to keep his tone nonchalant. "Did, um ... did Jack set this password or...?"

He heard a sharp intake of breath followed by a long silence. Eventually, she replied  "Oh ... right. _That_. Er, I mean ... yes. It was Jack."

Rhys said nothing in response to that revelation, struggling to wrap his mind around the implications of it. He finished inputting the code, suppressing the twinge of awkwardness he felt as the words "I LOVE YOU" flashed across the passcode screen, followed by a mechanical hum as the door slid open.

Beyond the door was a cavernous enclosure, the wall lined with smooth, uneven slabs of rock. At the center sat a circular metal platform with a single console at its opposite end. Rhys cleared his throat. "Do I just .. push that button over there?"

"Well, yeah," Angel replied with a dry tone. "It's a pretty linear path."

He let out an annoyed puff of air as he pressed his palm flat against the console button. "Don't you sass me. For all I know, a Constructor bot might come falling from the ceiling."

Rhys crossed his arms, tapping his foot as the platform slowly descended. He felt a prickle of worry when he was _still_  being lowered deeper into ground even after a good ten seconds had passed. The pit went so deep that the sunlight from above barely reached him. "Is this stopping any time soon? I feel like I'm about to hit the planet's core."

"Patience, Rhys."

A few moments later, he finally slowed to a stop. The space at the bottom of the tunnel was much like the one at the top, with the exception of the short hallway to his side, which was illuminated in violet light. Rhys approached the door almost timidly, resting hand onto its cool surface. "Is this it?"

"Almost. There's still one more hallway ... and it leads directly to my room."

The area beyond the doors was noticeably darker, illuminated only by harsh neon lights. As he made his way through the passage, Angel said, in a quiet voice, "Rhys, I ... I haven't been completely honest with you."

Rhys paused mid-step, the abruptness of the admission catching him off guard. He sighed, reaching up with his flesh hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Yeah, well ... I kind of figured as much. I mean, even for an advanced AI, the amount of security in the works for this place is pretty ridiculous." Not to mention Jack's password, which he didn't even want to think about at that moment.

"That's because I'm ... I'm not exactly an AI," Angel said, her normally melodic voice now oddly strained. "I'm sorry, Rhys. I wanted to tell you earlier. Please believe me."

Rhys stood in silence for a long moment, his brain seeming to process the words at half its normal speed. "Wait. How is that even possible? A human can't do what you do."

"I'm not human either." Her voice was so soft that Rhys barely heard her even in the total silence of the room. "I ... I think you should see for yourself."

The words "that's not ominous at all" flashed through Rhys's mind as he crept through the remainder of the passage, eventually coming to a stop in front of an imposing steel door.

"I can handle this one on my own," Angel offered. In a quieter voice, she said an odd phrase—to Rhys's ears, it sounded like a computer command.

"Executing phaseshift."

The doors silently parted before him, closing shut once more when he cleared its threshold. He entered a dome-like laboratory of sorts, with large, empty tubes fanning out across the ceiling and connecting at a single point at the center of the room. The tubes appeared to be plugged into an orange orb, and through its translucent walls, Rhys could just barely make out a human-shaped silhouette, its hands pressed against the inside of the barrier.

"I'm here, in the middle. Behind the shield."

Rhys belatedly realized that the words were no longer coming in through his neural port but were instead echoing off the walls of the chamber. As he might've expected, Angel's voice sounded just as pretty in person.

He crept closer to her, his eyes widening with each step. He couldn't spot them clearly from afar, but up close he could see bright, illuminated markings etched along her skin, stretching from the base of her throat to the tips of her fingers. Light pulsated down the length of her arm, tracing the marks like electricity through wires.

Distantly, Rhys noted the pair of white wings sprouting from her back. The feathers shimmered in the faint light the room offered, as if they were made of vapor or droplets of water.  _Oh_ , he thought. _She really is an angel._

Rhys came to a stop when they were almost within arm's reach of each other. Angel's face was mere inches from the barrier, bottom lip caught between her teeth and brows pinched in worry. The one eye not hidden beneath her bangs shined bright and blue and was strikingly familiar to Rhys.

When he failed to react in any way, Angel said, with a hint of anxiety, "Say something already." She crossed her arms and took a small step back, defensively.

His mind drew a blank at first, overburdened with the task of sorting through his many jumbled thoughts. After several failed starts, Rhys eventually blurted out, "You have wings."

Angel burst into laughter, some of the tension seeming to slip from her voice. Dimples formed on her cheeks when she smiled and she seemed to have a habit of crinkling her eyes when she laughed.

She flexed her wings and flapped them once to demonstrate, the air around her making an audible whoosh from the movement. "Good observation. It's a siren thing, from what I've gathered."

Rhys's ears perked at the word. He remembered reading about sirens once, a lifetime ago, in the fragments of a tattered storybook he found as a child. He had spent most of his life believing that sirens were a myth—and now there was one right in front of him.

"Why are you here?" Rhys craned his neck to gaze at the web of polycarbonate tubes attached to the top of the orb that Angel seemed confined to. "What is this place?"

"Control Core Angel," she replied, in a voice that was decidedly less cheery. "Home sweet home."

Rhys felt the pieces snap together, forming a more complete picture in his mind. "Jack put you here."

Angel nodded, a pained expression flashing across her features. Rhys swallowed through the sudden dryness in his throat as he considered a question that he was almost too afraid to ask. "Did he kidnap you or something?"

The corners of Angel's lips quirked into a small, fleeting smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It feels like it a lot of the time, but ... not exactly." She suddenly glanced off to the side, worrying her bottom lip in contemplation.

Eventually, their eyes met once more. She took a deep breath and said her next words slowly, as if they were being wrenched out of her.

"Jack is my father."

Rhys simply stared for several long moments. "You're ... You're joking, right?" he asked with a faint, uncertain smile. The idea of it was ridiculous. Handsome Jack, the family man?

"I know it's hard to believe," she replied, the same pained look returning to her face, "But it's true. Jack is the man who raised me. He's ... the only parent I've ever really known."

".. Seriously?" His smile slipped from his lips as he grappled with the apparent truth of her words, feeling more and more lightheaded with each passing second. "Oh god," Rhys said, an embarrassed blush fighting its way onto his cheeks. "You're not kidding. He's a dad. _Your_ dad. I've been hooking up with your _father_."

"Please don't remind me," Angel replied, and Rhys had never before seen someone so pretty scowl quite so deeply. "You've already told me way more than I've ever wanted to know." With an annoyed huff, she added, "Thanks for that, by the way."

"Um ... sorry?" Angel made an odd noise that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh, which Rhys responded to with an embarrassed laugh of his own. "Well, how was I supposed to know? You weren't exactly upfront about it."

"Fair enough." Angel sent him a brilliant smile that seemed to light up the whole room. She took a step forward and pressed her palm against the barrier, her tattoos glowing so brightly that it hurt his eyes to look at them. "I'm glad you're here, Rhys."

Rhys tried to match her smile with one of his own. "I am too." His hand met hers, pressed against the opposite side of the shield. A pleasant warmth spread through his chest upon noting how tiny her hand was in comparison to his own. It was strange to think that someone who seemed so fragile and kind could be the child of a man like Handsome Jack.

"Wait," Rhys said as a curious thought occurred to him. "If Jack's your dad, then why did he put you in this-" he spread his arms, gesturing at the entirety of the room, "-in this bubble? You should be up on Helios with us."

Angel sighed, wearily. "That's ... a long story."

Just as she had begun her explanation, her whole body tensed, her face suddenly stricken with alarm. She glanced at something over Rhys's shoulder before lifting off the ground, her wings beating in the air behind her.

"Jack is descending the platform outside. He'll be here soon."

The warning immediately sent Rhys into a panic. "What do you mean? Why the hell is he here?"

"I don't know, Rhys! Just hide! _Now!_ "

Rhys sprung into action, scanning the sparsely furnished room for a hiding spot. He found a loose panel on the wall opposite the door and pried it open, squeezing into the half-built and thankfully empty compartment within. The doors slammed open a few short seconds later, and he heard Jack enter with a slow, measured gait.

"Jack," Angel said in an amazingly calm tone. "Is there something you need?"

For a few seconds, all Rhys heard was the sound of Jack's footfalls growing closer and closer. "Just wanted check in, you know, make sure everything's set for our big day." The heels of Jack's boots clicked against the floor tile as he came to a sudden halt. "Weird thing is," he continued, his voice sounding oddly gruff, "I saw a car just outside that looked _real_ familiar. In fact, I'm pretty sure I drove that exact same car earlier today. What a _funny_ coincidence, huh?"

Rhys felt his heart freeze in his chest. _Ohhhhh fuck_.

"Sir-" Angel said, the panic setting in, but Jack interrupted before she could get another word in.

"So I'm thinking to myself, where's the driver, right? I mean, the Loader Bot sure as heck didn't drive. So then I think maybe, just _maybe_ , he's with my Angel. But he ain't here either! It's like a frickin' magic trick!"

A slam echoed through the space, loud enough to make Rhys jerk in surprise and nearly bump his head on the roof of the compartment.

"Where the hell is he?" Jack hissed. He said something else in an even lower tone, but it was too quiet for Rhys to catch.

"Sir," Angel said in a shaky, pleading voice, "It was my fault. I'm the one who brought him here. If you're going to be upset with someone, then be upset with me."

Jack seemed to ignore her request, footsteps angrily and aimlessly stomping about the room. "Okay, _Rhysie_ ," he said, more venom than words. "Let's make a deal. You show your ass right _now_  and I promise not to tear that Loader Bot of yours limb from limb. Which will start to look _real_  tempting in the next ten seconds."

Something inside Rhys went numb. A feeling of cold disappointment bloated his chest upon realizing that, for the first time, Jack had given him a _real_  threat. One that he was certain to act upon if Rhys didn't do exactly what Jack wanted.

Through sheer force of will, he smothered every instinct telling him to stay put and pushed the panel open with a loud creak, crawling from his hiding spot a moment later.

As Jack's eyes swerved to land on him, his masked face exhibited an unusual array of emotions. Anger was the most prominent; it fixed his mouth into an ugly scowl and caused a muscle to tic just below the metal clasp at his temple. But instead of the glare that Rhys had been expecting, Jack's eyes were wide with surprise, as if he were still struggling to accept that Rhys was really there, just a stone's throw away from his own daughter.

Something deep and raw flickered across Jack's gaze, and in that instant, his face buckled and laid bare an emotion Rhys had never, _ever_  thought to see from the other man.

For the briefest of moments, Jack looked hurt.

It was gone in the next second, swept away by the cresting tide of Jack's rage, and whatever guilt Rhys had felt was swallowed up along with it. Jack closed the gap between them with a few long strides, and all the air left Rhys's lungs as Jack grabbed his shirt by the fistful before slamming his back against the wall.

Behind him, Angel was pounding her palms against the barrier that confined her, begging Jack not to hurt him. Only then did it dawn on Rhys that Jack could very well kill him for this. After all, he himself had witnessed Jack ending lives over much smaller offenses. He dazedly wondered if Jack would dispose of him the same way he did Tassiter: staring deep into his eyes, fingers clenched tight around his neck.

For a long while, Jack said nothing and simply studied him, mouth drawn into a tight line. Then, his lips twisted into a humorless little smile that did nothing to ease Rhys's nerves. "You really are something, Rhys," he said, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "For a second there, I really thought you were as dopey and loyal as you act. With all those doe-eyed, adoring looks you're always giving me, like I just walked out of your wildest wet dream."

_Doe-eyed?_  Rhys thought, scoffing incredulously despite his predicament. He opened his mouth to retort, but snapped it shut when Jack growled, "Don't you say a single goddamn _word_ , Rhys. You don't make a sound unless I tell you to."

He felt Jack's knuckles dig painfully into his chest, as if to punctuate the statement. Rhys gave him a silent nod in reply, eyes slightly narrowed as he tried to convey his resentment through expression alone.

"Since you're so eager to say something, at least tell me something worthwhile. How long have you known about Angel?"

Rhys licked the dryness from his lips, unsure of how to answer. Behind Jack, he could just barely see Angel standing stock still, hands planted against the barrier as she watched with bated breath. "It's ... hard to say." They were standing so close that he could hear Jack's teeth grind together in irritation. Hurriedly, Rhys added, "We've talked before, but I didn't know who ... or what she was until just now."

Rhys hoped his admission would help calm the other man down, even if only slightly. Instead, it seemed to only make Jack even angrier. "You've _talked_?" he asked, voice rising in volume. "How in the hell have you two _talked_? Enlighten me, Rhys, because I'm really, _really_  not understanding this."

He raised his brows in bewilderment, uncertain of what, exactly, Jack was asking of him. He and Angel were friends—what was there to explain?

"Jack-" Angel said, but the rest of her sentence was left unspoken. After a pause, she said, in a quieter voice, "Dad."

Every muscle in Jack's body seemed to tense at the word. His gaze finally left Rhys as it instead trailed off to the side, stopping just short of reaching Angel.

"I'm the one who reached out to him," Angel said. She lifted her chin in defiance before adding, "I did it because I trust him. And ... And even though you won't admit it, I think _you_  do too."

Rhys's eyes went huge, his jaw dropping from pure shock. Had he heard her right? He stared at Jack, seeking confirmation, but the man's expression was inscrutable. Without warning, he felt Jack tug him forward, his whole body jerking and flailing from the sudden movement.

Jack shoved him in the direction of the door, roughly enough that Rhys nearly tripped over his own feet. He took a couple steps backwards to steady himself and stared at the other man all the while, feeling a mixture of relief and confusion.

Jack's eyes were now glued to Angel, who leveled him with an equally steely gaze of her own. "Get out," he said, not even bothering to spare a glance in Rhys's direction.

Rhys looked to Angel, who broke from her staring match just long enough to send him a quick, firm nod. Reluctantly, he exited the room, but not before lingering at the doorway. He peeked over his shoulder and saw Angel, whose nervousness was only betrayed by the slight trembling of her hands. Jack was now anxiously stalking the perimeter of the barrier, as if he were the one caged instead of his daughter. With a heavy heart, he tore his eyes away and finally stepped out of the room, the doors locking behind him with a decisive click.

Rhys rested against the nearest wall, his forehead hitting the metallic surface with a dull thunk. He let out a heavy, full-bodied sigh that seemed to drain him of all his remaining energy. He could only imagine at the argument now ensuing beyond the soundproof walls surrounding him.

He sighed once more, a sinking feeling in his gut. Angel was a siren ... and Jack's daughter. He was unsure which revelation surprised (and troubled) him more. There was also the fact that, from the looks of things, Jack was apparently imprisoning her in a heavily guarded military bunker. Judging from the massive data streams flowing through Control Core Angel, as well as his own observations of her powers, Jack was certainly using her for heavy surveillance and intel gathering. But he had the feeling that there was something else, some reason why Jack put her in Pandora, specifically. That suspicion only worsened the sinking feeling within him.

Not to mention what Angel said about Jack possibly  _trusting_  him. It was probably something she had said as a distraction, he reasoned. After all, _that_ was a fantasy Rhys refused to even consider.

He wasn't certain how much time passed like that, with him standing idly in the suffocating silence of the hallway, before the doors slid open once more. Jack strode out, looking just as pissed as he had when Rhys left the room. He completely ignored Rhys as he stomped past, briskly making his way through the hallway and back to the lift.

With some embarrassment, Rhys found he needed to break into a jog to keep up with the other man's pace. "Jack, we ... we need to talk."

Jack snorted derisively, but otherwise refrained from replying. Rhys glared at the back of his head as he cleared his throat and tried again. "Why are you keeping Angel down here? She should be up on Helios with everyone else."

Rhys could see Jack grind his teeth, his angry tic pulsing once more at his temple, but still he said nothing. He boarded the lift and pounded the panel button with his balled fist, barely leaving enough time for Rhys to scramble onto the platform before it began its ascent.

Jack turned his back to him, apparently choosing to face the wall instead. Rhys quirked his brow incredulously, a rising anger welling up within him. Of all the words one could use to describe Handsome Jack, "mature" was definitely not one of them.

"She's a siren, right?" Rhys said, steeling himself. "And one with the abilities of an AI. Shouldn't she be able to use her powers anywhere? Why is she on Pandora? And why are you putting so much security around her? If she was up on Helios, you wouldn't even need to-"

Jack interrupted his flood of questions with a cold, joyless laugh. He spun on his heel, finally choosing to face him. "You think it's that easy, huh? What, we just plug her in on Helios and voilà, all our problems are solved?"

"Um," Rhys said with a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Well ... yeah?"

Jack rolled his eyes skyward with a long, drawn out sigh, as if their entire conversation were a punishment. "You seem to be new to this, so I'll do you a favor and just spell it out." He paused dramatically before going on to say, "Sirens are weapons. And weapons hurt people. You have _no idea_ what Angel is capable of. Hell, even Angel doesn't really know the amount of damage she could do if she really tried."

"She isn't just some weapon, Jack," Rhys said, unconsciously raising his voice in anger. He couldn't believe Jack was talking about Angel as if she were a thing instead of a person. "A weapon doesn't have a conscience. But Angel does! She isn't a danger to other people, not if she learns to control her-"

"Oh, like I give a shit about 'other people.'" Jack bracketed the words with air quotes, as if other human beings were just a figment of Rhys's imagination. "All of this," Jack said with a sweep of both arms, "-is for Angel's protection, no one else's."

Rhys just stared, not quite grasping the other man's (possibly hysterical) train of thought. "How so?"

Jack crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes in scrutiny. "This might be hard for a pampered Eden boy like you to understand-" Rhys bristled at the other man's thinly-veiled condescension. Before he could say anything in protest, Jack continued, "But once you've been around long enough, you'll realize that people, Rhys ... people are _beasts_. They'll take every little thing that's decent in this world and tear it to pieces."

Though Jack seemed calmer now, there was an unsettling gleam in his eyes, one that sent a chill down Rhys's spine. "What do you think'd happen if we put her on Helios, hmm?" Jack asked with a cocked brow. "Do you really think all the opportunistic little shits up there would just let her be? That they'd see her as anything _but_ a weapon?"

The platform had reached the surface at some point in the middle of their argument, and Jack abruptly turned towards the exit in an attempt to cut their conversation short. Before Rhys could second guess his words, he blurted out to the other man's retreating back, "How are you any different? You're the one keeping your ... your own daughter in a cage, like she's an animal!"

His only warning was a snarl followed by a flurry of movement. His whole body jerked forward as a hand tugged at the front of his shirt, and in the next moment, Jack was in his face, teeth bared and practically spitting with rage. Jack's free hand lunged towards his throat, and Rhys reflexively pulled away and cringed, bracing himself.

The seconds ticked away in total silence, Rhys waiting for an attack that never came. He carefully pried his eyes open and saw Jack's hand hovering mere inches from the base of his throat. He could see the lines of taut muscle beneath the man's mask, as though it took every bit of strength he had to restrain himself.

Eventually, Jack pushed him away with a light shove. He retracted his outstretched hand and instead ran his fingers through his hair several times over, thoroughly mussing it. He let out a shaky breath of air and said, in an unusually gruff tone, "You're just a kid, Rhys. You're not responsible for anyone but yourself." He met Rhys's gaze, a hard look in his eyes. "Why the fuck would I care what _you_ think?"

Rhys opened his mouth, but he felt suddenly robbed of his words. Jack's question felt like a slap to the face, like a greater dismissal than any number of insults or condescending pet names.

Jack left without another word. In the distance, he heard him yelling orders at the bodyguards who had accompanied him, his voice eventually swallowed by the roar of the car engine and screeching of rubber tires on asphalt.

Rhys and Loader Bot eventually made their way back to Opportunity, most of the return drive spent in a strained silence. Upon arrival, he went straight to his apartment and collapsed into bed, willing himself to sleep. His last thoughts were of Angel and of Jack, and how alone all three of them were in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Jack is my father."_
> 
> _Rhys simply stared for several long moments. "Wait a minute. Does that make me, like, your stepmother or something?"_
> 
> _"Honestly, Rhys?" Angel replied, looking horribly unimpressed. "You're less of a stepmother and more like my dad's weekend ho."_
> 
> _"W-w-weekend ho??"_
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	11. Gluttony pt.III

When Rhys awoke the next morning, the first rays of sunlight had just begun to spill over the jagged mountain peaks carving the horizon. He noted, with some relief, that Jack was already long gone—until he remembered that he had taken most of the city's armed personnel along with him.

He lingered in bed for a few moments longer, the events from the night before replaying in his head. He wondered if that was the last time he would ever see or hear from Angel, and the thought of it alone sent a dull pain throbbing through his chest.

With a heavy sigh, Rhys rolled off his mattress and begun a sloppy, half-assed version of his usual morning routine. With only construction workers around for him to impress, Rhys decided to dress down, trading his usual tailored suit for slacks and a button-up shirt. He stepped outside, wincing as the sunlight hit his face, the rays strong and piercing even in the early hours of the morning.

Loader Bot was stationed just outside the front door of his apartment building. His eye whirred as it moved up the length of his body, seemingly inspecting him.

「YOU LOOK WRECKED.」

"Oh, shut up," Rhys grumbled, pointedly stomping away from him. He made it halfway across the courtyard before Loader Bot called out:

「YOU HAVE A VISITOR.」

Rhys stopped in his tracks. He glanced over his shoulder, brow raised in curiosity. "I do?"

「SHE'S WAITING IN THE SQUARE.」

_She?_ Rhys thought. Despite the sheer of improbability of it, his heart thrummed with the hope that the visitor was Angel. He raced to the square with newfound urgency, half-running through the empty city streets.

He was slightly out of breath once he arrived, eyes frantically scouring the area. He saw a slim figure leaning against the base of the Jack statue, obscured by its tall shadow. The woman was certainly familiar to Rhys, and the sight of her made his entire body freeze in alarm.

The woman's bullet-tattered clothes and worn, wide-brimmed hat instantly reminded him of their first fleeting encounter over half a year prior. The jacket she had worn that day was now conspicuously absent, revealing the toned muscle of her exposed arm. She peered over and acknowledged Rhys with a half-nod, bright eyes glimmering curiously as he approached.

He stopped several feet short, the toe of his boot skirting the edge of the statue's shadow. The woman kicked off from its granite base and stood, shoulders squared and with a hand resting on the curve of her hip. She tipped her hat upwards and brushed a stray tuft of hair from her eyes in one fluid movement. "Jack told me you might need some help."

Rhys gave the woman a blank stare. "He did?"

She cocked a brow, her face lighting up with amusement. He then remembered something Jack had said the day before about calling someone in to help with security. Rhys felt a sudden weight in his chest as the situation became clearer to him. "Oh! Um, r-right," he stuttered. " _That_."

The woman's lips twitched into a smirk as Rhys fumbled with his words, only increasing his embarrassment. She took a single step forward, emerging from the shade as she offered her hand to him. "Name's Nisha."

"Oh, uh. Hi. I'm Rhys." Nisha's hand felt warm and rough, her skin as dry and callused as the baked Pandoran earth beneath them. "There's still a small security team here, though I think they're all guarding the perimeter..."

Nisha glanced eastward, towards the bridge and the mountain range far beyond it. "I'll stick around the city entrance for now. It looks like it gets the most action."

She moved to walk past him, but abruptly stopped when they were shoulder-to-shoulder. In a low, purring voice, she murmured, "Relax. I'll play nice, alright?"

Rhys swallowed thickly, responding with a single nod. After a few beats, Nisha finally moved on, the heavy thumping of her footsteps fading as she made her exit.

Rhys ran a hand through his hair, a fresh wave of resentment crashing through him. What the hell was Jack thinking, sending _her_ of all people to work with him? As if he weren't already angry enough with the man.

Rhys considered stomping straight over to his office, but after a moment of thought, he instead decided to return to his apartment for a change of clothes. Looks like there was someone worth impressing after all.

* * *

"So is Pandora as bad as it sounds? Ooh, have you gotten shot at yet?" Through the small display of his ECHOscreen, Rhys could see Vaughn's brows shoot up in excitement. In the background, he heard Yvette say, "Please. The bandits would kidnap him for ransom before they shot at him."

Rhys pointedly glared at the monitor before replying, "Yeah, I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking. And I've mostly been holed up in Opportunity, so I can't say much for what the rest of Pandora's like."

Rhys kicked his feet up onto the edge of his desk. His two friends were currently having lunch on Helios, which meant that he was only a fourth of the way through the Pandoran day. It was really no wonder why the planet's inhabitants were crazy—the days were just too damn long.

"That's probably for the best," Vaughn said, the disappointment visible on his face in spite of his words. "What's Opportunity like? Is it ... clean?"

Rhys snorted. "Well, yeah. This is basically Handsome Jack City, so it's easily the cleanest place on all of Pandora."

From the background, he heard Yvette call out, "Is Handsome Jack even in Opportunity? I heard a rumor that something big is happening in New Haven today."

"I'm not allowed to share any information about Jack." Rhys frowned as he added, "Which I've told you guys, like, a million times now."

"Well, excuse us for being curious," Vaughn said around a mouthful of pizza. "You see the guy, like, everyday now, right? But you never talk about him. Are you seriously not allowed to say _anything_? Like even whether or not he's in a good mood today?"

Rhys's mouth clicked shut on its own. When talking to his friends, Jack was a topic he tended to avoid—and one he wanted to dodge now more than ever. "I can tell you one thing: he's definitely _not_ in a good mood. There, happy?"

Vaughn's eyes widened in surprise, and Rhys immediately regretted snapping at him. "Woah there, dude. I didn't realize things were so tense. Sorry?"

"It's fine," he replied with a sigh. "I'm just feeling a little stressed right now."

Vaughn, thankfully, did not push the issue. Instead, for the remainder of their time, Vaughn talked about life on Helios and the promotion he recently received (which Rhys may or may not have played a role in giving), with Yvette offering the occasional offscreen quip.

"Okay, bro, I gotta head out," Vaughn said as he rushed to gather his things, cutting their conversation short. "Don't get killed out there."

"That's the plan," Rhys dryly responded. He expected for the feed to cut off once Vaughn left, but after a few moments, Yvette's face entered the frame.

She cocked a brow, the corners of her lips tugged downwards and her arms crossed over her chest. "Okay, Rhys. Spill."

Rhys gave her a blank stare. "Huh?"

She let out an exasperated puff of air through her nose. "You didn't smile once throughout that whole conversation. Vaughn might not have noticed, but I definitely did. You may as well be wearing a sign that says 'Something's Bothering Me' in big, bold letters."

Rhys's frown only deepened at her words. Even after all this time, Yvette's uncanny ability at reading people still caught him off-guard. "I've had a lot on my mind lately. That's all."

"Like what?" Yvette asked, her face open and unusually free of judgment.

A hundred possible answers rushed his mind at once. He recalled the events of the previous night, forming his response carefully. "Let's say that, hypothetically, there's this person that you like. But they're doing something that you really disagree with, and it doesn't look like they're going to stop." Rhys took a deep breath before asking, "What would you do? How would you even act around that person?"

Yvette's face was fixed in an expression of shock. Whatever she had been expecting, it apparently wasn't _that_. Shallow lines creased along her forehead as she quietly pondered the question, chin delicately propped up onto the back of her manicured hand. Finally, she said, "It depends. If I think that I can't ever forgive the person, or if they're just not that important to me, then I would probably stop associating with them."

Rhys felt his heart sink upon hearing her answer. As if sensing his dismay, Yvette quickly added, "But you're a different person. And what I would do isn't necessarily right for you."

Yvette leaned back in her chair, letting her eyelids fall shut as she heaved a tired, defeated sigh. She seemed suddenly older in that moment, her thoughts weighing upon her slumped shoulders. "Situations like that are all about compromise, Rhys. What do you stand to gain by being with that person? And what are you willing to sacrifice?"

Yvette's questions lingered in his mind long after their conversation ended. At the time, he had no answers for her. He wasn't sure if he ever would.

* * *

Rhys leaned his weight against the nearest metal railing, the blunt edge of the handle digging into his forearms. He was taking a walk through town in a failing attempt to ward off the tiredness threatening to shut his eyelids, and he arrived at the bridge that connected Opportunity to the untamed wilds of the Highlands.

The day was just a little over halfway done, and he had already spent more time holed up inside his office than he could handle. There was no unusual activity in Opportunity's servers, and even that aside, it was difficult to muster any enthusiasm for the job now that he knew he was little more than a glorified babysitter. Unwittingly, his thoughts briefly flickered to Angel, tucked away beneath the ground like buried treasure.

Rhys rubbed at his eyes, which were now heavy with sleep. He rested his head atop his folded arms, blinking several times until he finally gave in and allowed his eyelids to mercifully droop shut.

"Best not to sleep with your back unguarded. You never know who might sneak up on you."

Rhys's eyes snapped open at the startling proximity of the voice. He spun around to find Nisha standing just a few feet shy of him. He frowned, wondering how long she had been standing there. He hadn't even noticed her approach.

"You Hyperion boys always have trouble with the longer days here on Pandora." Her slow gaze trailed down the length of his body with such scrutiny that Rhys could practically feel its caress. "Nice suit."

Rhys squirmed, feeling suddenly self-conscious of his conspicuous change of outfit. He mumbled a thank you before asking, "Weren't you guarding the entrance?"

Nisha claimed the spot next to him, leaning her elbows against the guard rail. "I was, but nothing fun's happening out there anyway. So now I'm here."

An awkward silence fell between them. Rhys stood stiff as a board all the while, and waited for several long moments before finally risking a glance. He nearly jerked away in surprise upon finding that Nisha was observing him as well, staring at him from the corners of her eyes.

"What?" Rhys asked, instantly regretting his hostile tone of voice.

Nisha smirked and turned slightly to face him, an odd gleam in her eyes. "You any good with a gun?"

Rhys simply gaped. Before he could stop himself, he blurted, "What?" And had to consciously refrain from smacking himself for asking the same dumb question twice in a row.

"You any good with a gun?" she repeated, her smirk spreading into a small, mysterious smile. "It'd be pretty cruel to send someone down here who can't fend for himself. Even for Jack, that's a mean joke."

Rhys couldn't help but feel a twinge of irritation at her words. "I do know how to shoot one, if that's what you're asking."

Nisha's face practically lit up at his response. To Rhys's utter confusion, she unholstered one of the pistols strapped to her hip and offered it to him. "Prove it." With her free hand, she pointed at a shape in the distance. "Aim at that tree hanging over the edge of the nearest cliff."

The gun felt cold and heavy in his grip. He took aim, swallowing nervously as he felt the weight of Nisha's eyes upon him. It had been a few years since the last time he had practiced this, and his body was now struggling to remember the proper stance.

He attempted to activate his ECHOeye for assistance, but Nisha caught him in the act. "No cheating," she warned, roughly tapping her knuckle against the port at his temple. " _You're_ the one shooting, not Hyperion."

Rhys shifted uncomfortably before willing himself to relax, easing some of the tension from his posture. He settled for the closest approximation of a proper shooting pose that he could muster and finally pulled the trigger, bracing himself for the shock of the recoil.

The bullet missed its mark by several feet. Rhys lowered the gun, a healthy dose of disappointment sweeping through him.

"That's actually not as terrible as I was expecting. But you could definitely use some work."

Rhys openly scowled, eyes glued to the floor in embarrassment. He heard Nisha approach him from behind before lightly laying a hand atop his shoulder. "You're too stiff here. Lower your arms a bit. And lean forward a little when you shoot. You're so thin, the gun might blow you backwards."

_You're smaller than I am_ , Rhys thought, chewing on his bottom lip to keep from voicing the retort. He followed her guidance, making each small adjustment as directed.

"Now tighten your grip and pull the trigger as steady as you can." Nisha was so close that she was almost talking directly into his ear.

Rhys let out a slow breath as he took aim, his finger curling around the trigger and pulling with a light tug. This time, the gun barely moved after the shot. In the distance, he heard the splintering of wood as the bullet grazed the edge of the tree's trunk.

He heard a low whistle from behind. "Not bad. For an office boy, at least."

Rhys sighed at the half-hearted compliment. He wondered if all her conversations with Jack were exactly like this, the two of them sparring each other with thinly-veiled barbs.

He surrendered the pistol to its owner, who returned it to its holster. Her gaze lingered on Rhys in a way that made him distinctly uncomfortable—her stare wasn't as intense as Jack's but it was just as hard to read.

"Jack's wrong about you," she mused, the words only putting Rhys further on edge. "He thinks you're an open book. But your eyes hold secrets in them."

Rhys reflexively bristled, as if in self defense. It was a vague statement, one that could probably apply to just about anyone. But the knowing look Nisha was giving him made him feel utterly exposed.

Suddenly, Nisha's smile erupted into a laugh. "Easy there. I'm not in the business of prying." With a smirk, she added, "And besides, I've got too many secrets of my own to keep."

She ended the conversation with a tip of her hat, sauntering back the way she came. "If you need me, you know where to find me."

Rhys stared at her retreating back, his thoughts a jumbled knot. Despite everything, he was beginning to think that maybe, just maybe, working alongside her wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Rhys was halfway towards regaining consciousness when he heard a voice call out to him.

"Rhys."

He rolled over onto his side, making an annoyed whining noise at the person interrupting his sleep. The voice repeated his name, and through the haze of sleepiness fogging his mind, he realized there was a pulsating warmth near his neural port.

A switch flipped in his head, and he shot up into a sitting position, hastily rubbing the tiredness away from his eyes. Towards the end of the afternoon, he had decided to throw in the towel and went to bed early. Judging by the dusty blue night sky and the fading stripe of light lining the horizon, it appeared as though the sun had only just recently set.

"Angel?" he called out to the empty room.

Though his question was greeted with silence, he was certain that it had been her. Undeterred, he went on to ask, "Are you okay? After yesterday, I ... I wasn't sure if I'd be hearing from you again."

For a long while, he heard nothing. Then, finally, she replied, "Jack had some time to think things through. He's still not happy, obviously, but I ... I think he's going to allow us to keep in contact. For now, at least."

Despite the good news, Angel's voice was almost completely monotone. "Are you okay?" Rhys asked, sensing that something was wrong. "You're not hurt or anything, are you?"

"No, don't worry, Rhys. It's nothing like that. I'm just ... I'm just tired." She sighed then, as if to emphasize her words.

"Were you helping Jack in New Haven?" It was something he had been wondering about the whole day, but he failed to receive a single update on what had been going on. Though considering the way he and Jack parted, he preferred the current lack of communication between them.

"Yes," Angel said, her tone now completely devoid of warmth. "Jack needed assistance carrying out his plan. I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk about it."

Rhys raised a brow at her unusually curt response. Sensing her obvious discomfort, he decided to smother his curiosity for the moment.

"I won't ask you about New Haven if you don't want me to, but ... there's something else I've been thinking about." It was a question that had been weighing heavily on his mind since the previous night. Now that he had the opportunity to ask, he began to wonder if he should.

"Angel ... do you hate Jack?"

He heard her draw a sharp breath of air, followed by a long pause. Hastily, Rhys said, "Sorry, nevermind. Forget I said anything"

"No, don't apologize. It's just a hard question to answer." She hesitated once more before admitting, "I'm not sure. I guess ... there are times when I do hate him."

Her answer wasn't unexpected, but for Rhys, it felt almost painful to hear. Before he could reply, Angel continued, in a smaller voice, "But despite everything, it's hard to fully hate someone who you understand so well. I know just about everything about my father. Sometimes I think that I might know him better than he knows himself."

She paused, and in the short silence, Rhys realized that, as far as he could recall, this was the first time Angel was speaking about Jack without an undercurrent of bitterness in her tone.

"Did you know that Vasquez calls his mother everyday?"

Rhys blinked, bewildered by the abrupt change in topic. Generally, he tried to spare as little mental energy as possible wondering about Vasquez, much less the man's friends and family.

"He makes an outgoing call to Demophon everyday after work," she casually explained, as if this total invasion of privacy were normal. "I got curious a couple weeks ago and eavesdropped on one of his calls. I won't say that Vasquez is _likable_ when talking to his family ... but he does make a valiant attempt at being decent."

Rhys lifted his brows in disbelief. Decent was one of the last words he would use to describe his assistant. "That's pretty difficult for me to imagine."

"I figured it would be," Angel replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "But that's the problem with seeing everything the way I can. I understand people too well. Sometimes more than I want to."

Rhys listened in respectful silence. He could tell from Angel's slow, careful way of speaking that she was trying to express something important, something she had probably been mulling over for a long time.

"I can't help but feel some small bit of empathy, even for people who I know are mostly detestable. So despite his many faults, I can't bring myself to fully hate Vasquez." There was a slight quiver in her voice as she said, "And as much as I want to, I can't fully hate my father either."

Rhys laid in the darkness of his room, lost in thought. He held a very different view from Angel—to him, people were easy to either love or hate. But Angel had always struck Rhys as someone special, and if nothing else, this seemed to be further proof of it.

He wasn't sure how much time passed like that, with the two of them in a comforting stillness, simply enjoying the other's presence. Eventually, Angel said in a noticeably cheerier tone, "Hey, want to see something cool?"

"I dunno," Rhys replied, a playful lilt in his voice. "Do I?"

"Turn on the ECHOscreen in your palm." Upon noticing his reluctance, she added, "Just humor me, okay?"

Rhys did as she requested, the holographic screen casting a dull light throughout the darkened room. He felt Angel's warmth trail downwards, across his chest then along the length of his arm. The screen flickered, and an image began to emerge from beneath the static.

Rhys stared, mouth agape, as what appeared to be a live video feed of Angel filled his screen. She looked noticeably more tired than the last time he had seen her, but despite her exhaustion, she was smiling.

"Ta-dah!" she said, waving her hands like a magician who just performed a trick. "Impressed?"

"Very," Rhys replied, grinning. He reached out with his index finger, poking at the image of Angel's face.

She wrinkled her nose in response, as if she had truly been poked. "Hey. Don't do that."

Rhys laughed, feeling some of the weight lift from his chest. He realized, with startling clarity, that this was the first time that his own happiness had ever felt dependent on the happiness of another.

And to his own surprise, he begun to understand Jack a little better: his overwhelming anger, his fleeting display of vulnerability, and most of all, his all-consuming need to keep this person safe, no matter what the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Nisha smiled in satisfaction as she successfully shot and killed a stalker lurking in an open field near the outskirts of the city. She aimed the barrel of her gun at its companion, but before she could take the shot, the loader bot at her side gunned it down with pinpoint accuracy._
> 
> _The bot turned towards her, its ridiculous bodyguard badge gleaming in the afternoon sun._
> 
> _「NICE TRY.」_
> 
> _Nisha smirked. "Best two out of three?"_
> 
>  
> 
> Song for this chapter: [Foxes - White Coats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q7tfuUzK5W4)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	12. Gluttony pt.IV

At dusk, all of Opportunity was engulfed in shadow. The city's electrical grid had so far only been set up for a handful of buildings, and so Rhys was forced to use the faint moon and starlight as his guide through the streets and walkways.

From the mouth of the bridge, he could just barely make out the orange flickers of a bonfire at the opposite end, the flames dancing in the arid breeze. The fire grew bigger and brighter as he neared, and eventually, he noticed a figure laying prone an arm's length away from the embers.

Though Nisha did not stir at his approach, once he drew close enough, she called out, "Pretty late for a stroll." She nudged her hat away from where it had been covering her face, craning her neck to meet his gaze.

Rhys shrugged. "I woke up and couldn't really go back to sleep." He was restless after his conversation with Angel, too preoccupied with the thoughts buzzing around inside his head.

Nisha pushed herself up into a sitting position, forearms draped over her bent knees. "You kidding? There's barely anything to do around here _but_ sleep."

Rhys raised a brow, incredulous. "Weren't you attacked earlier today? I heard a big commotion coming from this direction." The scuffle had occurred just a few hours after he had met Nisha on the bridge. Even from inside his office, he could hear the echoes of grenade blasts and the rhythmic beats of heavy artillery fire. The wind had swept away all traces of the battle, but the scent of spilt blood lingered, its metallic taste tainting the air itself.

"Word got around that the city is mostly empty. So the local band of Crimson Raiders came knocking." Nisha threw a piece of kindling into the fire, watching intently as the flames consumed it.

"What happened?"

Nisha regarded him with a cocked brow, as if he had asked an inherently ridiculous question. "Do you have to ask?"

Rhys's eyes dropped to the floor. She was right; the answer was obvious. The relatively unscathed state of her body explained everything he needed to know. "Guess not."

Nisha clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, grimacing. "Jack owes me, big time. I should be partying in New Haven with everyone else, not picking off two-bit bandits like a hired thug." She stretched her arms with an exaggerated groan, shoulders popping from the strain. "I'll kill him, if I don't die of boredom first."

Rhys's eyes widened in surprise. It was the first time he had ever heard someone threaten Jack, even as a joke.

Or at least, he assumed it was a joke.

Rhys lowered himself to the ground, making sure to maintain a respectful distance. "So," he said with an awkward cough, "New Haven is pretty heavily fortified, isn't it? You think they're doing okay over there?"

Nisha glanced at him, lips twisted in a smirk. "Funny."

Rhys stared at her, his face blank save for the confusion etched in his brows. "Uh... okay..."

Nisha's eyes darted up to meet his. Her lips pursed before parting once more to ask, "Do you really not know?"

"No one's told me anything," he replied with a shrug. The only other person he had been in contact with was Angel, who had refused to talk about it.

Nisha stared at him with widened, disbelieving eyes. "Jack ravaged the city," she said, the ugly words slipping smoothly from her mouth. "New Haven is nothing but ashes and smoke. And best of all," she paused before saying her next words, a dark and wild emotion clouding her features, "Roland is dead."

It took a few moments for the statement to sink in. Rhys wasn't nearly as involved in the Pandoran conflict as some of the other Hyperion executives, but even he recognized the name. Roland, the leader of the Crimson Raiders.

"That's a pretty big victory, isn't it?"

"Well, Jack certainly thinks so. He won't shut up about it. Sometimes I think the gods themselves are watching over that man."

_Or just an angel_ , Rhys thought, privately.

Nisha's gaze lingered on him once more as she added, "I'm surprised he hasn't told you."

Rhys scooted closer to the fire and drew his knees to his chest, shielding his body from the creeping cold. "Since he left, we ... haven't really been talking." His vague answer was met with an inquisitive, if not impatient, stare from Nisha.

Rhys sighed. "We had an argument."

"You ... had an argument?" she repeated, slowly, the amusement clear in her voice. "You and Handsome Jack?"

"Me and Handsome Jack." Rhys idly toed at the dirt beneath his foot. It felt oddly embarrassing, opening up about this to his ... rival of sorts.

"Wow," Nisha said, sounding weirdly impressed. "What's that even like?"

Bitterly, Rhys responded, "It's like being in a yelling match with a violent five-year old." He couldn't help but crack a smile when his words elicited an unexpectedly warm laugh from his companion. "What, do you and Jack never argue?"

Nisha leaned back against her palms, the fire light casting long shadows across her face. "We have plenty of disagreements, but we don't fight with words. I didn't think Jack ever did." She cocked her head, eyeing him with interest. "But I guess I was wrong."

Rhys bowed his head as the unwanted memories trickled back into his mind. "It was pretty one-sided," he admitted, the words tasting foul on his tongue. "He ... he said he doesn't care what I think." He snapped his mouth shut, a dull pain throbbing in his chest. Rhys wished he could reach inside himself and pluck it out, like pieces of shrapnel hidden in the folds of his body.

Nisha silently watched him, scrutinizing Rhys with the cold curiosity of a scientist towards its subject. "Jack says a lot of things. I wouldn't give his words too much weight." She leaned forward once more, closing some of the distance between them. "If your argument was as bad as you say, then the fact that Jack let you walk away from it not only alive but _unharmed_? That says a lot. More than words ever could."

Rhys glanced at her before meekly diverting his eyes, scared off by the intensity of her stare. He wondered why she was telling him all this. Despite his suspicions, he felt some of the tension leave his body.

"I have to say," Nisha began, mouth fixed in a smirk, "when Jack first told me about you, I was pretty skeptical. But you're more interesting than he let on."

"Um ... thanks?" Despite himself, Rhys felt his cheeks grow warm from the backhanded compliment. Before he could rethink his words, he blurted, "So do you approve? Of us?"

Nisha's eyes grew wide with shock. "Excuse me?"

"Well, I mean," Rhys said, scrambling for words, "It's just that you seem to, um, have a relationship with Jack. And you seem weirdly accepting of me even though you sort of ... were there first?" Rhys cringed, just barely stopping himself from smacking his own face.

Nisha laughed so hard that her whole body pitched backwards, the echoes of her laugh drifting up into the night sky. Rhys buried his face in his arms, half-wishing he could bury his head into the ground instead.

"That's not the type of arrangement we have," she replied once her laughter had settled into a dry chuckle. "Jack doesn't need my permission to do anything. Or anyone." She paused, pinning Rhys with a rather indecent smirk. It was really no wonder that she got along so well with Jack. "And besides, he doesn't come around all that often anymore."

Rhys's ears perked at this nugget of information. "He doesn't?" He bit his bottom lip, inwardly cursing how eager he sounded, a bead of hope budding inside him.

"Not as much as he used to. I guess he found something he liked better."

She said the words plainly, as if she were speaking to a change in the weather rather than a change of heart. To Rhys's own surprise, he felt a bit of guilt in that moment.

"Don't make that face at me," she said with a huff and a roll of her eyes. "You can keep your pity. I can do much better than him anyway."

A slow, steady smile stretched across Rhys's lips. "You probably can."

Nisha pinched the brim of her hat between her fingers, tipping it downwards to shield her face. "Good luck with him. He's a handful."

Rhys craned his neck, glimpsing up at the hundreds of stars and satellites winking down at him. It gave him comfort knowing that at least one of those lights was Angel, looking down at both him and Jack from somewhere high, high above.

"Yeah. He definitely is."

* * *

Jack returned at the end of the following day, his triumphant army at his front and the dying blaze of the sun at his back. The commotion upon their arrival was so loud that Rhys could hear it from his apartment, the ground rumbling from the slow, cumbersome footsteps of the cadre of loader bots led by Wilhelm.

Rhys peered down at the entourage through his opened window. Even from a distance, Jack seemed changed. He entered the city with the pomp and menace of a conqueror, the taste of victory having made him an even larger presence than before. At Jack's command, the soldiers cracked open the giant crates and containers that stored the spoils of their battle, some of it precious metals and jewelry, and most of it artillery boasting differing levels of quality.

Eventually, Rhys closed his window shut and rested his forehead against the glass panel, planning out his next move.

He didn't approach Jack until well into the night, after the soldiers had retreated to the barracks set up on the outskirts of the city. Once the bustle had died down, Jack had holed himself up in the office a floor above his own. He nervously crept along the corridor, towards the door at the very end that had been left slightly ajar, fluorescent light spilling through the gap.

Jack was hunched over an ECHOscreen projecting a series of charts atop his desk, focusing on the data so intently that his face hovered just a few inches short of the screen. Rhys was forced to knock to claim the man's attention, his knuckles rapping lightly against the inside of the door.

Jack jerked away from his desk in alarm, reflexively closing the screens with a swipe of his hand. His eyes widened upon recognizing his intruder, and then swiftly narrowed once more. He leaned back in his chair, body tense and rigid, regarding him warily, as if in preparation for an attack.

Rhys cleared his throat and nervously fidgeted with the lining of his jacket. He had turned the words over in his head countless times, but as usual, at the pivotal moment, his memory always seemed to fail him. Eventually, he managed to say, "So, I guess everything went okay for you in New Haven?"

Jack scoffed. "It went way better than _okay_. I was kicking ass out there. It was like a friggin' action movie." Despite his offended tone, he seemed to visibly relax, the tension in his shoulders subsiding.

"Well, um, congrats. Will there be less fighting now that... you know...?" Rhys trailed off awkwardly.

"Now that Roland's bandit ass is six feet under?" Jack replied, mouth stretching into a wide, toothy grin. "Actually, that's not exactly true. Parts of his body are still very much above ground."

Rhys had begun to ask what that meant, but quickly changed his mind. He was probably better off not knowing.

Jack's grin faded somewhat as he went on to say, "But fighting is the only thing these backwater savages know how to do. There won't be any less of it. Especially not with those damned vault hunters still running around doing god knows what." At this last statement, Jack ground his teeth, looking downright murderous.

Jack's eyes snapped up to meet his, causing Rhys's breath to catch in his throat. He managed to hold Jack's gaze, which began to soften as the silence stretched on between them. Eventually, Jack said, "You didn't really come here to ask about New Haven. Did you?"

Rhys let out a nervous, rattling breath. Gathering his courage, he shut the door behind him, making sure to keep eye contact with Jack as he did so. "I ... I want to make a deal."

Aside from a slight narrowing of his eyes, Jack's expression was surprisingly impassive. Rhys took his silence as his cue to continue. "If you accept, then I'll ... I'll do whatever you want. I'll do anything. And I'll never lie or hide things from you again." He paused, his hands clenching at his sides as he willed himself to continue. "I'll be yours. Completely."

Rhys felt his shoulders sag with relief once he was done. Though he had been wracked with dread and doubt in the hours leading up to this meeting, now that the words had finally left his lips, it felt all but inevitable, as if the entirety of his life had been in preparation for this moment. As if this conversation were merely an acknowledgment of a process already in motion.

Jack remained still and unmoved throughout the entirety of his proposition. Then, suddenly, he lifted himself to his feet, slowly and deliberately making his way around the edge of his desk. He closed the gap between them in a few short strides, coming to a stop mere inches from Rhys's face.

Rhys tensed as he felt Jack's splayed fingers cradle the back of his neck, his thumb resting uncomfortably close to the base of his Adam's apple. "And what do you want in return?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Jack's thumb lightly dug into the tender flesh of his throat, and Rhys felt his breath hitch from the pressure. He willed himself to relax, his strained muscles becoming soft and pliant within the other man's grip.

"I want you to let me visit Angel whenever I want."

For the first time during their conversation, some dark, seething emotion flashed across Jack's face. "Why?" he growled through gritted teeth.

Jack's fingers were pressing into him with such force that Rhys could barely squeeze the words out from his throat. With considerable effort, he managed to say, "I just ... want her to be happy."

Rhys wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Jack watching in silence as he grew more and more faint. He began to feel light-headed, his breathing transformed into a quiet, rhythmic wheezing.

Without warning, Jack released him. Rhys's whole body pitched forward from the sudden lack of support, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he stumbled to regain his balance. He sucked in several large, desperate gasps of air, heartbeat pounding frantically in his ears, as if it were scolding him for his reckless gamble.

He risked a glance at Jack, who was considering him with a detached curiosity. His eyes were glazed over, as though his mind were somewhere else entirely. "C'mere, kid," he said, lips twitching into a slight smile. "I wanna show you something."

Rhys cautiously followed him to the other end of the room. Jack laid his palm flat against the wall, activating a camouflaged fingerprint scanner. There was an audible beep followed by a click as a panel in the wall unlocked. Jack wrenched it open, revealing a titanium security box hidden within the walls of his office, one large enough that its roof reached Jack's hips. Rhys stared, wide-eyed as Jack disabled several complex locking mechanisms before finally prying the door open.

At first, all Rhys could make out was the purple, radioactive glow of eridium. He squinted and saw the edges of a cone-shaped object, one that seemed both ancient and futuristic. Strips of refined eridium embellished its crumbling surface, its light pulsating as though it were alive. It was obvious even to Rhys that this was some kind of alien artifact.

"You have no idea what you're looking at, do you?"

Rhys tore his eyes away from the object, glimpsing the amused, if not slightly condescending expression on Jack's face. "Is it some kind of Eridian technology?"

"You could say that." Jack abruptly kicked the door shut once more and proceeded to relock the entire contraption. "That, Rhysie," Jack said as the wall panel slid back into place, "is a vault key."

Rhys felt his jaw slacken in shock (and maybe even awe). Though Jack never spoke about his life before he was CEO, the tale of him opening the Vault of the Destroyer had been embraced as part of Hyperion lore and was often recited with the gusto and theatricality of a campfire story. That he had come upon a second vault key, and so soon after the first, felt too miraculous to be attributed to mere luck.

_Maybe it's fate_ , Rhys thought. Out loud, all he managed to say was, "How? Did you find it in New Haven?"

"Nope," Jack said with a wide grin, his face a perfect picture of self-satisfaction. "I picked it up on the way back. If you wanna know the fascinating details, I stole it from a crazy lady who has the hots for chairs." His amusement only grew upon seeing the dumbfounded look on Rhys's face. "I swear, the shit you see on this planet. It's unreal."

Jack crept towards him, leaning in a little too close for comfort. "What I'm trying to say, Rhysie," he murmured, hot breaths ghosting over the shell of his ear, "is that of all the people you could've pledged your loyalty to, choosing me was the right damned decision."

Rhys shivered, either from the feeling of lips brushing lightly against his ear or from the words those lips had uttered. Strong arms wrapped firmly around his waist, and Rhys melted into the embrace. He closed his eyes as Jack's mouth traced the curve of his neck, biting back a wince as teeth sunk into delicate flesh.

He felt any lingering doubts crumble within him; he shed his worries as easily as the scraps of clothing tumbling to the floor. He knew now that wherever this man went, he would follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Rhys! Turn off that ridiculous app right now!"_
> 
> _Rhys wiped the tears from his eyes, laughing so hard that his muscles had grown sore from it. If anything, the sour look on Angel's face only made it funnier. He tapped a button on his ECHOscreen, dissolving into another fit of giggles as the app switched the cat whiskers for a pair of pink bunny ears that cartoonishly flopped around with her every movement. Angel stubbornly shook her head in rebellion, but to no avail—no matter how fast she moved onscreen, the bunny ears remained firmly attached to her image._
> 
> _"Stop it!" she whined, swatting at the empty space above her head. "Get those things off my head! Rhys!"_
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	13. Interlude pt.II

OPENING Experiment_ER00154_Report.doc

The Effect of Mass Eridium Absorption on Sirens

A report on the optimal eridium dosage for enhancing siren abilities

**ABSTRACT:** By repeatedly injecting trace amounts of eridium into the test subject, we were able to predict the effects of long-term absorption within a 4% margin of error. From the experimental data acquired over a four-month period, we conclusively determined that a daily intake of 2.5 liters of eridium will result in a 342% increase in total energy output. Moreover, a steady supply is crucial in both maintaining these high energy levels, as well as in ensuring the subject's survival.

21:34:25

Rhys finally asks about the tubes. Even before he vocalizes the question, I can feel it hanging in the air between us. His eyes are immediately drawn to them every time he visits me, though in fairness, I suppose only a blind man would neglect to ogle at them so. They are as sinister in appearance as they are in purpose.

I tell him that the tubes will one day be filled with eridium. That sirens seem to have a special relationship with the element that causes it to enhance our abilities. I want to tell him more. I want to pour everything out from inside me, to share this burden, this ugliness, with someone else.

Instead, I give Rhys a smile that he does not return. He presses his hands against the walls of my cage, and the look on his face makes my eyes sting and moisten.

When he steps away from me and begins toeing towards the exit, I feel the stinging sensation migrate to my chest, where it spreads and festers within me. I hate this moment worst of all.

"I have to return to Helios later today. But if you want me to visit sooner than next weekend, just tell me. Okay?"

I nod, willing myself to feel nothing. The distinctive click of the door lock echoes throughout my empty chamber. It's a loathsome, lonely sound; as it reaches my ears, my hands automatically clench, like a conditioned reflex.

It's strange, how different time feels now that I have something to look forward to. Time spent with Rhys feels fleeting and endless all at once. Whereas so much else feels like stretches of void, lost between the wires and numbers that make up my existence.

**3\. The Effect of Eridium on Energy Output**

When gradually increasing the levels of eridium absorption, the subject's energy output grows exponentially. The estimated tipping point is 2.5 liters. However, it is predicted that increasing the eridium quantity beyond 2.5 liters will result in little to no additional energy output. The chart below details the predicted points of growth and stagnation:

Liters

1.0

1.5

2.0

2.5

3.0

Energy Increase

7.1%

19.8%

88.3%

341.7%

344.3%

We recommend steadily increasing the eridium dosage over a period of two months. Due to the observed addictive qualities detailed in section two, a drastic increase in eridium intake could prove harmful or even fatal to the subject.

37:45:31

My father arrives, unannounced. It seems like a routine check-in at first: I give him my daily report, as well as any significant information gathered during my surveillance, first at Helios then abroad. His expression changes when I mention the vault hunters, just as it always does.

"They'd kill him if they could. You know that, right?" 

I pause. It's a curveball of a question, one that's meant to knock me off-balance. Though he says no names, I implicitly know to whom he is referring. After all, there is only one other person in my life now.

He stalks the edges of the barrier as he speaks, eyeing me for my reaction.

"Anyone who looks and acts Hyperion? Dead. Doesn't matter if they're a killer or not. With that crazy bitch Lilith on the warpath, there's no way they'd spare any of us. And especially not a freakin' executive."

I listen to his words in quiet resentment. Language is a weapon to my father, one he uses to hurt and deceive others into bending to his will. Sometimes I wonder if he's even capable of sincerity, or if the years of lying and manipulating have layered onto his skin, hardening around him like a protective shell.

"It's us versus them, sweetpea. If you don't want him to be slaughtered like an animal, then _don't hold back_."

My father's words paint an unwanted picture in my mind. In spite of the obvious trickery ingrained in his advice, I cannot deny the truth of it. After New Haven, our enemies would not hesitate to destroy the few things, the few _people_ we love.

My admission causes an unexpected sadness to well up within me. I once fancied Lilith as my kin, someone more like family to me than my own flesh and blood. But now she can only be my enemy.

"Do whatever it takes to keep him safe."

I lift my chin as I stare my father directly in the eye, nodding my assent.

**4\. Risk of Fatality from Eridium Addiction**

Due to the severity of eridium addiction, at high absorption levels, if the subject is cut off from their eridium supply for as little as 50 seconds, then the withdrawal will prove fatal. The risk of fatality increases proportionally to the increase in dosage, as detailed in the chart below:

Risk of Fatality

10%

25%

50%

75%

99%

Liters

0.2

0.5

1.0

1.5

1.9

The risk of fatality reaches 99% at 1.9 liters. In reference to the energy output levels described in section three, 1.9 liters corresponds with less than an 88.3% increase in energy levels. This is well below the subject's maximum potential.

09:18:06

I have been dreading this day for months.

The slow, gradual build-up only worsened the wait. I wish this moment arrived suddenly and without warning, like the two other worst days of my life. On those days, the shock I felt was like a sedative, dulling my fear. But now I feel it fully, in the trembling of my hands and the desperate rattling of my heart.

I sometimes imagined this day going differently. At my most nostalgic, I imagined the father of my youth miraculously returning to me. At my most vengeful, I imagined breaking loose and killing the man he has become. And once, I imagined Rhys freeing me from this place. It was that fantasy that hurt the most.

I stare up into the once empty tanks surrounding me, now glowing a malevolent, radioactive violet. Just the sight of it makes me nauseous.

After checking the setup one last time, my father's hand settles on the curved handle of the lever. He hesitates, glancing in my direction. It seems curious to me that he even bothers to ask for my permission. Perhaps this is his way of apologizing.

I take a deep breath and send him a single firm nod. He pulls the lever.

**6\. Conclusion**

Despite the overwhelming risks in increasing the eridium dosage to optimal levels, there are also overwhelming potential benefits. Because of this, there was a 70-30 split on whether to recommend this course of action, with 70% of the team in agreement and 30% in disagreement.

In order to mitigate the risks, we recommend the following course of action:

  * Set up multiple eridium supply chains to Opportunity as a safeguard against sabotage
  * Ensure that there is a one-week supply of eridium in the control core at all times
  * Refine the system's automated functions so that it will continue operating for a minimum of 40 hours without the assistance of a generator
  * Upgrade the Bunker and all other onsite and offsite security defenses



As a final note, it should be acknowledged that, throughout the course of the experiment, the subject demonstrated considerable reluctance in taking part in this project. As her cooperation greatly increases the probability of Hyperion's long-term success, we suggest gently reminding her of any and all incentives for her participation.

Lastly, concerning when and how to disseminate this information to the subject herself: we defer, as always, to the judgment of Handsome Jack.

CLOSING Experiment_ER00154_Report.doc 


	14. Sloth pt.I

Between the unpleasant realization that the last set of security upgrades had put his department significantly over budget and the sinking suspicion that one of his employees was embezzling a sizable chunk of their funds, it was safe to say that Rhys was feeling a little stressed. So when he opened his calendar to find that his assistant had inexplicably canceled all meetings scheduled for the following week, he felt one panicked email away from having a stroke.

As he hurried to his next meeting, he opened his ECHOscreen's instant messenging service and sent Vasquez a snippy, "what the hell is this?" with a screenshot of his calendar.

To which the man replied, "orders from the top." Then, after a long delay, he added, "sir."

 _Orders from Jack?_ Rhys thought, his curiosity eclipsing any irritation he felt.

With help from their assistants, Rhys just barely managed to carve a fifteen minute meeting into Jack's schedule, at a time well past regular office hours. He made his way to the top floor with mild trepidation; though the two of them had barely seen each other all week, he had heard plenty of stories of how foul Jack's mood had been the past few days.

In the months following the collapse of New Haven, Jack diverted a large portion of the company's resources away from weapons development and reallocated it towards eridium mining, as well as scouring Pandora for the elusive vault. And despite Jack's tireless, near-obsessive efforts, the latter initiative had so far proven fruitless. Even to outsiders, the toll the search had on their leader was growing increasingly obvious: it was visible in the tired lines of his face, snaking out from underneath the edges of his mask.

The instant Rhys entered Jack's office, he half-expected the man to launch into some blistering verbal tirade, as though eager to hurl abuse at any target within a ten meter radius. But instead, Jack was hunched over the papers on his desk, choosing to remain uncharacteristically and unnervingly silent.

His eyes remained glued onto his work, even once Rhys had drawn so close that his shadow overlapped the papers strewn across the desk. Rhys made a point to clear his throat before asking, "What's happening next week?"

Jack's movements stilled. He finally spared a look in his direction, and even through the mask, Rhys could see the deep creases at the edges of his eyes. Jack let out a long, slow breath of air as he dragged a hand down the length of his face. "We're going on vacation."

Rhys stared, confusion dulling his surprise. Surely he had misheard? After all, Jack's idea of a vacation was either a) locking the two of them in a bedroom for a few hours or b) going down to Pandora for a day to set something on fire. The man simply did not rest.

Eventually, Rhys managed to sputter, "We're ... we're doing what now?"

Jack pointedly rolled his eyes, as if it were the dumbest question he had been asked all day. "Christ, look at your face. It's like there's nothing going on inside that head of yours."

Rhys openly glared at the insult, but before he could offer a retort, Jack continued, with an emphatic wave of the arm, "You know, vacation? When you putz around on a resort with a bunch of rich stiffs while your company goes up in flames in your absence?" He punctuated the irreverent comment with a deep scowl. Rhys thought it likely that Jack was the only mega-rich CEO in the universe who would express such outrage at the prospect of being paid to not work. "Angel thinks it'll be good for me. She says my stress level is at nine. Whatever the hell _that_ means."

Rhys vaguely recalled Angel warning him about his own stress levels a couple days prior—a warning he had then chosen to ignore. To an extent, he could sympathize with Jack; it did feel oddly mutinous to be forced to rest, even if he sorely needed it.

Jack activated one of the many ECHOscreen projectors hooked up to his desk, and spun the screen around to face Rhys. The image on display was what appeared to be an immaculately clean blue ocean, its waves interrupted only by a small, rocky outcropping. A lone word flashed across the top of the screen, one that made Rhys's blood run cold.

"Aquator," Jack read aloud. "The least boring tourist planet in any of the nearby star systems. They have sharks that are the size of a friggin' tank. So I'm sold."

Rhys stared at the static image, only half-seeing it as the long-suppressed memories began to resurface from within him. It was a similar poster to the one that had been burned into his mind's eye as a child. The Rhys of the present day knew the modern, man-made comforts of the Eden system, as well as the sheer luxury that came with the title of Hyperion executive; but as a child, Aquator was the only definition of paradise that he could cling to. The thought of it filled him with a bitter nostalgia.

"You alright there, princess?" Jack asked, an odd tension in his voice. "You look like you got a whiff of skag crap."

"Sorry," Rhys replied, willing himself to push the unpleasant thoughts into the furthest pocket of his mind. "I just feel really tired."

Jack's eyes narrowed, as if he could see right through his lame excuse. But he closed the ECHOscreen, mercifully choosing to drop the topic. "The transportation and lodgings are aaaall taken care of, sweetheart. The only thing your pretty little head needs to worry about is what hot swimsuit you'll be wearing while we're there."

Rhys blatantly ignored the lewd comment and instead asked, "Not to sound ungrateful, but ... why are you bringing me along?" If anything, he expected Jack to neck it out on his own, with no one but a few select bodyguards to keep him company.

"Well, who the heck else am I gonna go on vacation with? Blake?" Jack launched into a whooping laughter that increased in volume as it went on, complete with thigh-slapping and the occasional wheeze. " _Hell_ no. It'll be you, kiddo. Congratulations."

A rare, but increasingly familiar expression flickered across Jack's face in that moment. Ever since Rhys promised his loyalty to him a few months back, he occasionally caught Jack looking at him as though he were some special little thing that he had stumbled upon by accident.

But then the moment passed. Jack returned his attention to the report nearest to him, dismissing Rhys with a handwave. "8am sharp on Saturday. Don't be late."

And that, apparently, was that.

* * *

The night before his trip, Rhys found himself in one of the swankier bars of Helios, downing his third cosmopolitan while Vaughn complained about his older, richer, and better-looking brother. Rhys half-listened, nodding at the appropriate moments. His thoughts were focused elsewhere: partly on all the unfinished work he was about to leave behind, but mostly on Aquator and its neighboring planet.

"What about you, Rhys?"

Rhys glanced up at his friends, who were both staring at him from across the table.

"Got any siblings?" Vaughn asked between sips of beer, clearly phrasing the question as casually as possible. "You never really talk about your family. Or about anything outside of Hyperion, really."

Rhys brought his drink to his lips in an effort to stall, quickly thinking of a hundred different ways to deflect the question. Eventually, he settled on, "There isn't much to say. I don't have siblings, and I've never been close to my parents. I haven't spoken to them at all since I left for college." It was a half-truth, one barely skirting the line of real honesty.

"Oh," Vaughn mumbled, in obvious disappointment. He turned towards Yvette, aiming his sudden curiosity at her instead. "What about you, Yvette? Your mom lives in Hera, right?"

She hesitated before reluctantly replying, "Yeah. She's there with my little sister." She downed what remained of her wine glass before continuing, with a steeliness in her eyes, "And I had an older brother who used to work here, in R&D. He was a scientist."

Rhys paused mid-sip, while Vaughn made an odd choking sound. "Wait, wait, wait," Vaughn said, gesturing wildly to demonstrate his surprise. "You have a brother who worked for Hyperion? How has this not come up?"

Yvette's lips stretched into a small, joyless smile. "I _had_ a brother. He died a few years ago. Mechanical failure." She clicked her mouth shut, apparently choosing not to elaborate.

A heavy silence descended upon their table, in stark contrast to the chatter surrounding them. Rhys realized, then, how little he actually knew about his friends despite the countless conversations they had had—and in turn, how little _they_ knew of _him_.

"Shit," Vaughn said, in a slightly higher pitch than normal. "I am so, so sorry. I just ... I had no idea."

"It's fine," she replied, though her clipped tone said otherwise. "What's done is done. No use crying over it now." She abruptly stood from her seat, her entire demeanor shifting almost instantaneously. "Sorry to leave things on such a sour note, but I've got a dinner to catch."

Vaughn's eyes went huge, wildly darting from Yvette to Rhys, then back again. "You're seriously going to see him again?"

Yvette pointedly glanced at Rhys before responding, "Well, yeah. I don't see why I shouldn't."

Rhys looked back and forth between them both, sensing an unspoken tension in the air. "Umm. Is there something you guys aren't telling me?"

Yvette wore an unusually pensive expression, as though she were weighing something in her mind. In a calm, decisive voice, she answered, "I'm going on a date with Vasquez."

The confession caused something like an explosion to go off in Rhys's head. He laid his palms flat against the surface of the table, as if to steady himself. "You ... you don't mean Hugo Vasquez, right? Like, my assistant?"

"Yes, I do. And I already know you don't approve, so don't even bother complaining to me about it."

About a dozen different questions bubbled to the forefront of his mind, half of them some variation of, "have you lost your mind?" But the question that made it past his lips was, "How could you not tell me about this sooner? You're dating my assistant!"

Yvette's eyes widened slightly before narrowing into slits. She straightened her posture, towering over him despite the smallness of her stature. "Oh, sure. Because you're so open and honest with _us_ , right? Like about this 'business trip' to Aquator, the number one honeymoon destination in the whole galaxy?" In a more hushed voice, she added, "Because you, Rhys, wouldn't hide from us that you're sleeping with Handsome Jack. Right?"

Rhys swallowed with some difficulty, his throat tight with nervousness. He had been wondering for a while now whether his friends had pieced together the nature of his relationship with Jack. And now he had his answer. "How long have you known?"

Vaughn cleared his throat, eyeing the two of them anxiously. "I think Yvette's suspected it for a long time now. But I was only sure of it recently. Sorry bro, but Handsome Jack doesn't seem like the type of guy who brings just anyone on vacation with him..."

"Not to mention everything else he's done for you." Yvette said, bitterness apparent in her tone. "So work on yourself a little more before you go lecturing anyone else about honesty." Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she spun towards the exit, leaving without a second glance.

Rhys gaped at her retreating back, feeling somewhat numbed. "What ... what just happened?"

He looked to Vaughn, who seemed equally stunned. "Dude," he said. "I think you just got _told_."

* * *

"Travel permit?"

"Check."

"Swimming shorts?"

"Check."

"Toothbrush? Toiletries? Colorful socks of the pastel variety?"

"Check, check, and check."

Rhys admired his opened luggage suitcase, his belongings divided into neat compartments. He somehow managed to get everything packed in the scant few hours of free time he had before his departure. Now that it was nearly time for him to leave, Angel was helping him double-check his packing list.

He left his ECHOscreen activated on the palm of his hand, softly chuckling at the way Angel's head bounced in time to the song streaming from his opened music app. It was a teeny boppy pop song that Rhys himself openly derided—but if Angel liked it, then he was willing to put up with it.

Loader Bot had inexplicably decided to loiter in the corner of his living room while he packed, offering the occasional unhelpful remark. He now seemed focused on something in Rhys's luggage, his mechanical eye whirring softly as it zoomed in.

「WHY ARE YOUR SWIMMING TRUNKS THAT SMALL? THEY SEEM IMPRACTICAL AS SWIMWEAR.」

"Believe me, you don't want to know why," Angel dryly responded.

Rhys glared at them both. "Just ... leave me alone."

They made their way through the remainder of the checklist, pausing occasionally whenever Rhys scampered around his apartment to retrieve the few items he had overlooked. At some point, he turned off the music app, and Angel took it upon herself to fill the silence with some singing of her own. It was a lovely, gentle melody that Rhys had overheard her humming a few times in the past; it reminded him of a lullaby.

Rhys's lips tugged into a smile as Angel effortlessly hit each note. _Of course_ she could sing. As stealthily as he could, Rhys activated his ECHOscreen's audio recording function.

Angel detected it immediately. "Hey!" she said, ending her song mid-lyric. There was a slight redness in her face that only widened Rhys's grin. "Why are you recording me?"

"Because you can obviously sing really well. Maybe I'll hand this recording over to a music label and turn you into a pop star." He accompanied the suggestion with a waggle of his brows.

"Please don't," Angel replied, playfully rolling her eyes. Her expression abruptly darkened, as though she had been struck by a somber thought. In a noticeably more timid voice, she asked, "If I let you record me, can I record your voice too?"

Rhys snorted at the unusual request. "Trust me, you don't want to hear me sing."

"You don't have to sing. You could just talk normally. Or tell a story." She blinked up at him through her lashes and nervously worried at her bottom lip. "It's just ... I'm basically going to be on my own for the whole week you guys are gone. So I thought I might feel a little less lonely if I at least have something to listen to. I know it probably sounds dumb, but..." She trailed off, leaving the remainder of her thoughts unspoken.

Rhys felt a prickle of guilt within him. He had been so preoccupied with preparing for his trip that he hadn't spared much thought at all as to what his absence meant to Angel. He forced a smile as he replied, "It's not dumb. I don't know many stories, but I guess I could try to think of something off the top of my head?"

Angel perked up, some of the brightness returning to her face. "Then it's a deal."

* * *

At five minutes to eight, Rhys began making his way to the loading dock, luggage in hand. Vasquez was waiting for him at the elevator bank, and just the sight of his greased hair and the smarmy, self-satisfied look forever fixed onto his face set Rhys's blood to a boil.

Vasquez flashed him a nauseating smile. "Enjoy Aquator, Rhys. Never been there myself, but I hear the sushi there is to _die_ for. Possibly literally, since the fishes on that planet are gargantuan." He paused to chuckle humorlessly. "Guess I'll have to hold down the fort while you're away-"

The rest of his sentence was lost in a startled, undignified squawk as Rhys used his cybernetic hand to push Vasquez against the nearest wall. Rhys leaned in and said in the most threatening voice he could muster, "I don't know what you think you're doing with Yvette, but if I find out that you're just using her, I swear I'll-"

"Woah there, you might want to tone it down with the accusations, _sir_. It's unbecoming." Vasquez easily pried Rhys's fingers open and wriggled out from his grasp, his hands darting up to smooth the wrinkles from his suit. He summoned the elevator, which arrived almost instantly. "I assure you that I have nothing but the sincerest of intentions with your friend Yvette, and frankly, it _pains_ me to know that _my own boss_ would even think to suspect otherwise."

His voice was so thick with malicious glee that part of Rhys wondered if he really was dating Yvette for the sole purpose of pissing him off. "Whatever your intentions are, I don't think you're Yvette's type. I give you guys two weeks, tops."

"Wanna bet money on that?" Vasquez spat. Rhys almost replied yes purely out of spite, but ultimately refrained from prolonging the irritating conversation any further. They spent the rest of the short journey in bitter silence.

It was eight on the dot when they reached the dock, and judging by the sheer number of personnel in the area, it seemed that there would be a few dozen more people accompanying them on the trip than Rhys had realized. Vasquez cleared his throat as they neared the small, private shuttle at the center of the dock. "I guess this is where we part ways. Give Jack my regards."

Rhys stopped in his tracks as the perfect comeback popped into his head. He turned towards Vasquez with a smirk. "Jack mentioned that he calls you Wallethead. What's that about?"

Vasquez's expression shifted to one of pure bewilderment, his face turning bright red as he sputtered unintelligibly in reply. Before he had time to recover, Rhys added, "Tell your mom I said hi."

He turned back towards the shuttle without another word, his smirk widening as he left the other man in stunned silence. Rhys felt Angel's warmth at his neural port, followed by, "That wasn't very nice of you."

"Well, he isn't a very nice person either," Rhys said with a flippant shrug. "At least I won't have to deal with him for an entire week."

"Yeah," Angel said, sounding suddenly dejected. "A week is a long time."

Rhys felt his guilt creep up once more at the reminder that he was about to leave her behind. He now regretted that Jack had chosen one of the few planets in the galaxy that didn't have a single Hyperion satellite orbiting it. "Hey," he said, sounding apologetic even to his own ears, "What do you want me to bring you as a souvenir?"

She paused in thought before timidly answering, "A pretty shell?"

"Is that all?" Rhys asked, laughing at the child-like request. "I'll bring you a whole jar full of them."

There was another, longer pause. Then, in a quiet voice, Angel said, "Have fun, Rhys. See you in a week."

His smile faltered as her warmth abruptly fled his temple. "Yeah," he replied. "See you."

An assistant greeted him upon boarding the shuttle, and a second assistant took care of his luggage as he entered the main cabin. It was about the size of the twenty-seat shuttle he had first arrived on Helios in, but instead of rows of hard seats, the space was filled with cozy armchairs, coffee tables, and an open bar.

Jack had already claimed a seat at the bar and was in the midst of pouring himself a glass of scotch when he noticed Rhys's entrance. "Heyyy, kiddo, glad you could make it. Grab a drink ... or five, since it's gonna be a long ass ride."

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Rhys quipped as he flopped onto the nearest chair.

Jack scoffed in response before taking a generous sip of his scotch. "We're on vacation, aren't we? Who gives a shit."

While Jack downed two glasses in short order, Rhys was pleasantly surprised to discover that the ride to Aquator was considerably smoother than any other form of space travel he had thus far experienced. He drifted to sleep soon after departure, and once he awoke, their nine-hour flight was already over halfway through.

He blearily rubbed his eyes and glanced around the cabin, spotting Jack in a sofa at the opposite end of the room. The typically boisterous man appeared to be fully engaged in the intimidatingly thick book perched between his hands. Rhys squinted to read the text printed across the top of the cover: The Art of War. Reading a book with that title while on vacation was such an utterly and predictably _Jack_ thing to do that Rhys rolled his eyes hard enough to nearly make them spin twice.

With Jack preoccupied, Rhys attempted to fill the time by alternating between absently staring out the window and surfing the ECHOnet. He had been idly reading a gossip article about the Space Vixens, when he glanced up on a whim and saw Promethea looming in the distance. Though it had been over a decade since he had last seen the planet, the colors were exactly the same as in his memory: streaks of molten red bleeding onto the thick blanket of orange dust that smothered the planet's surface. Promethea was fire itself, burning through space like a falling star.

Rhys tore his eyes away from the unpleasant reminder and lowered his window's blinds. He opened his ECHOscreen, desperate for a distraction, and was relieved to find a message from Angel.

> have you arrived at aquator yet? miss you already!

Rhys smiled, feeling some of the tension lift from within him. Though he no longer had a direct line to Angel, the two of them could thankfully still correspond via email. He typed out a quick reply:

> miss you too!
> 
> there's still about half an hour left till we arrive. i'm bored and your dad's ignoring me. :(

Just as he sent the message, he heard a voice whisper directly into his ear, "Rhysie, Rhysie, Rhysie. If you were feeling neglected, you should've just told me." Rhys jerked away in surprise, whipping around to find a very amused Jack casually leaning against the back of his armchair. "With all the couches in here, the two of us could've had plenty of fun." The look on Jack's face made it perfectly clear exactly what type of fun he was thinking of.

Rhys scrambled to switch off his ECHOscreen, face flushed from the embarrassment of having been caught. "I'm ... I'm not feeling _neglected_. I'm just bored and want this flight to be over already."

"Uh huh," Jack said, sounding much too pleased for Rhys's liking. He made his way to the chair opposite of Rhys, eyeing him curiously all the while. His expression grew more thoughtful as he settled into the cushions of his seat, chin resting atop a propped hand. "So tell me, kid. What do you and Angel talk about?"

It was an abrupt question, and one that Rhys never expected Jack to ask. He had gotten the impression that Jack's only concern was for Angel to not reveal anything she shouldn't, and otherwise, he didn't give a damn what they spoke about.

When Rhys didn't immediately reply, Jack added, "You two seem to gab at each other all day long, so you gotta be saying something interesting, right?"

Rhys shrugged, at a loss for how to answer. "I dunno. We just talk about anything, really. You know ... normal stuff?"

Jack's lips curled downwards at the vague, unsatisfying response. He tapped his foot against the floor, wordlessly urging him to elaborate. Rhys thought back to the conversation he had had earlier that morning and blurted, "I guess we've been listening to a lot of music lately, since Angel doesn't seem to know many songs."

At this, Jack's eyes went huge. "She listens to music?" he asked, incredulously, apparently struggling to wrap his head around that basic, mundane fact. "Like what?"

"Well, we usually just stream random songs from the ECHOnet. Though there's this one group that she's pretty fond of." He activated his music app and did a search for the group's name, pulling up the song that he and Angel had been listening to earlier that day.

Jack had an immediate physical reaction to the cheery opening notes, which exploded into unabashed revulsion when the boyish crooning kicked in. "The hell is this shit?" A look of horror flashed across his face upon realizing what the song truly was. "Is this ... is this _boyband music_?"

Rhys couldn't help but laugh at the pure outrage in Jack's voice as he muttered a string of angry curses. "Turn it off already! I'll lose my friggin' mind if I have to listen to any more of it." He slumped further into his chair, looking extremely put out. "I'll have to introduce her to some _real_ music when we get back to Helios. No daughter of mine is listening to that crap."

Rhys snorted in amusement as he muted the apparently offensive song. "And what, exactly, do you mean by 'real music'?"

"You know, badass songs. With sick guitar riffs."

Rhys bit back a grin as something akin to a childish pout fixed itself onto Jack's mouth. It was a little amazing how entitled Jack felt he was—that he saw even his daughter's music tastes as being within his domain of control. For a moment, Rhys wondered what it said about him, that he wanted a man like this.

From the corner of his eyes, Rhys noticed that the recording he had made that morning was now an icon on his screen. He tapped onto it on a whim, and Angel's melodic vocals echoed through the cabin. Jack's entire demeanor shifted in an instant, his face fixed in an expression of pure shock.

"How did you-" Jack began, but he stopped himself before allowing any other words to escape his mouth. His eyes flashed in anger, and Rhys reflexively flinched away, half-expecting the man to lunge at him or to show some other display of impulsive violence.

But then the moment passed. Jack deliberately stared off to the side and partially shielded his face from view, his hands clenched into tight fists on his lap.

Rhys gradually eased back into a relaxed posture. He had intended to ask about the song and its origin, but judging by Jack's reaction, he now thought that it might not be his place to inquire too deeply.

They spent the rest of the journey in silence, Angel's voice bridging the gap between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OPENING Rhys_Recording1.wav
> 
> _“So, uhh … once upon a time, there was a princess who was kept away in a very tall tower. The handsome king hid her there a long time ago because she was just too cute, and the king knew that anyone who saw her would try to steal her and hog her cuteness for themself.”_
> 
> _「SO DOES THAT MAKE YOU THE KING’S CONCUBINE?」_
> 
> _“I really don’t need your input, okay? Anyway, one day, the princess met one of the king’s advisors, who was brilliant and hard-working and totally deserved all the promotions he got-”_  
>   
> 
> I imagine that the song Angel was listening to [went a little something like this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pW7W8hbdhX8). :3
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	15. Sloth pt.II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is interested in reading the rest of the end note from the last chapter, you can do so [here](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com/post/145064257837/a-lot-of-people-reading-my-rhack-fic-seem-to-be). :D

What most surprised Rhys about Aquator was that there was actually quite a lot of land; millions of tiny islands dotted the ocean that otherwise dominated 95% of the planet's surface. From what he could see, the water had carved most of the islands into barren, jagged rocks that were virtually impossible to live on, and the few that were flat were so pummeled by waves during high tide that they were almost equally unlivable.

The island they had landed on was one of the few large enough to host a space station. After a somewhat turbulent landing, Jack had eagerly shuffled them from their shuttle straight to the rented yacht that was waiting for them at the shoreline. Three other shuttles arrived shortly after theirs, all of which carried the small army of bodyguards who were accompanying them on their trip. It was both intimidating and a little comical to watch the battalion of fully-outfitted, Hyperion-branded warships trailing a short distance behind their comparatively tiny yacht.

The yacht itself was a double decker that featured a lounge area on the rooftop of the main deck. The floor below deck included a sizable kitchen area, as well as a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. Rhys explored the entire layout of the yacht twice over and confirmed that there was, in fact, only one bedroom on the entirety of the boat. And the king-sized bed inside of it featured a very conspicuous decoration: two bath towels that had been folded and twisted into the shape of a heart.

So _that_ was a thing.

He ended his tour at the helm, where Jack was steering the boat towards an unknown destination. It was later in the day and the waning sunlight provided just enough warmth to offset the light, cool breeze ruffling his hair.

Rhys peeked over the boat's edge and stared into the deep, but eerily clear blue waters. He could see schools of fish swimming just below the surface, each one about the size of his head. Farther away, he spotted a black tortoise skimming the waves, its delicately patterned shell as wide as he was tall. Rhys nervously backed away at the sight of it, retreating to the safety of the passenger seat.

They came upon the occasional motorboat near shallower waters, most of them peddling fresh coconuts and dehydrated seafoods of dubious quality. Jack managed to goad him into trying water dragon jerky; after taking one bite, he fed the rest of it to a nearby dolphin.

Around sunset, they finally docked at an unremarkable cluster of islands. The largest one had a sandbar about a kilometer wide, where a few sailboats sat on the shore, waiting. "So," Rhys said as Jack leaped onto a small sand dune, "Why, exactly, are we here?" He looked back in the direction they had come from and noticed that the warships were anchored further away from them than usual.

Jack glanced at him from over his shoulder, smirking mischievously. "You'll find out in about ... ten minutes, give or take."

Rhys gave him a curious look, but said nothing. After a few minutes of waiting, the calm waters were suddenly disturbed by dozens of ripples, followed by tremors so severe that Rhys was forced to hug a nearby palm tree to maintain his balance. A thick beam of water exploded skywards, close enough that Rhys could feel flecks of water hit his bare skin. Hundreds of fish rained down from the newly-formed geyser, each one free falling through the air before somersaulting back into the water's depths.

Rhys gaped at the sight of it—but his wonder quickly transformed into mild terror as a whale the size of a space shuttle suddenly bobbed up into the air, catching at least a few dozen hapless fish in its huge, gaping maw. Rhys let out an embarrassingly high-pitched yelp as he instinctively scrambled away from the shoreline, stopping only when he felt his back smack into Jack's chest.

In stark contrast, Jack was whooping and hollering in delight, much like a hyperactive child. "Now _that's_ a whale!" he said, his hands clamping onto Rhys's shoulders. "Look at the size of that thing!"

After several minutes of feasting, the whale eventually wandered away in disinterest when the geyser dissipated into nothing more than a bubbly froth. Jack suggested chasing it with their yacht, to which Rhys responded "absolutely not." He was more than happy to climb back onto their boat and sail in the exact opposite direction as fast as humanely possible.

They spent the remainder of the day in aimless exploration, stopping only to buy food or to gawk at some giant montrosity swimming precariously close to their hull. Rhys retired to bed early, feeling abnormally tired. He fell asleep almost immediately, stirring only when he felt the mattress dip beside him, and then soon after, the press of lips against his throat. He sighed dreamily as he felt Jack sink into him, slackened limbs wrapped loosely around his body, eyelids heavy with sleep.

* * *

Rhys awoke the next morning with a slight smile on his lips, his body feeling pleasantly tender and sore from the previous night's activities. He carefully pushed himself into a sitting position and stretched his flesh arm with a low groan, accidentally nudging Jack awake with his elbow.

Jack blinked up at him a few times before rolling onto his side, propping his head up with his arm. "Morning, sweetheart. Your hair looks like shit."

Rhys self-consciously ran his fingers through his mussed locks in a half-hearted attempt to tame them. "Well, excuse me for not looking perfect right when I wake up. I kind of had a rough night." He ended the statement with a pointed look.

"Yeah, no kidding," Jack replied as he shamelessly ogled the fresh markings smattered along Rhys's naked torso, the bruises blending nicely with his newly touched up tattoos. "Your ass sure can take a pounding. It's kind of impressive that you're still able to keep up with me, even after all this time. Shouldn't you have, like, fainted by now or something?"

Rhys thought that maybe a year ago, he would've been horribly embarrassed by the crudeness of his wording. Now, he just smiled indulgently and cooly replied, "It's not as tiring as you assume it is. Actually, I think you have it worse than me in some ways."

"Oh _really_?" Jack said, brows shooting up in interest. "Care to explain?"

"Well, for one, it probably feels better for me overall. Since I'm being, uh, pleasured in ... two different areas."

Jack stared for a long moment. "Huh," he said, slowly, seeming genuinely stunned. Rhys figured that _his_ perspective on sex was likely something the other man had never even contemplated before. A dark look crossed Jack's features as he suddenly pounced on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the mattress. "So," he began, his voice noticeably huskier, "You up for another round, mister I-come-twice-as-hard-as-you?"

Despite his lingering exhaustion, Rhys had to admit that the offer was tempting. But then his stomach let out a loud obnoxious growl, ruining the mood entirely. Jack rolled his eyes as he climbed off of him. "Well, I guess we can't do anything until we get some food in you."

Rhys nodded, smothering his disappointment. The both of them got cleaned up and then retrieved the yacht's anchor, setting a course for a nearby lagoon that was known to have restaurant ships floating in the area. The most impressive one they spotted was a cruise liner that had all of the restaurant's menu items painted onto the sides of the hull. The moment Jack spotted the words "alligator shish kebabs", he demanded that they go in and try one.

Jack boarded the vessel with all the swagger of a pirate commandeering a ship, immediately barking orders at all the staff members who were within a twenty feet radius. The waiters hurriedly ushered them towards a private dining hall reserved for their most valued patrons. While Jack busied himself with piling shish kebabs onto his plate, Rhys partook in the more normal foods on the opposite end of the buffet table.

He had just finished scooping some dried seaweed onto his plate when he bumped shoulders with a patron who had just entered. He glanced up to mumble his apologies—but the words never left his mouth. Though it had been over a decade since they last met, time had been kind to the man now before him. His deeply sunburnt skin was free of the wrinkles of aging and his sculpted, muscular build easily filled out the thin material of his shirt.

The man stared down and scrutinized him for a long while, as if trying to place him in his mind. His gaze trailed to his cybernetic arm, and his eyes finally flashed with recognition. "You," he said, voice the same soothing bass as in his memories. "You've changed so much, I nearly didn't recognize you."

Rhys merely gaped, at a complete loss for words. The man glanced at the other end of the room, where Jack was now piling heapings of food onto a second plate. "You must be doing quite well to be traveling alongside Handsome Jack."

Finding his voice, Rhys replied, "You could say that. And I'm guessing things are still, um, going well with you?"

He said nothing in response, but the way his smirk widened was answer enough. "What's your name again? I remember it was something strange."

Rhys swallowed with difficulty, his throat uncomfortably tight. He instinctively knew which name the man wanted. "Rhys," he answered. "My name is Rhys."

"That's right," he said, his eyes glimmering with interest. "So, Rhys, is your life everything you wanted it to be?"

He glanced towards Jack, who was staring back at him with an odd expression. "I think so. Sorry, but I should probably get going." He nodded in Jack's direction. "But, um, thank you. You know, for ... for everything."

The man smiled knowingly as he stepped aside, allowing Rhys to walk around him. "I would tell you to take care of yourself, but I think you've already got that covered."

Rhys chuckled nervously as he said his goodbyes, practically sprinting to Jack's side. Before Jack had a chance to interrogate him about who he had been talking to, Rhys successfully distracted him with questions about the food. The room was large enough that he managed to avoid bumping into his old acquaintance again throughout the entirety of their meal, and for the moment, he was able to push the encounter to the back of his mind.

Following their late breakfast, they continued sailing towards the lagoon. According to Jack, this particular lagoon was small and somewhat hidden, and thus much less likely to attract other tourists. They anchored the boat at the edge of a shallow reef, which they were forced to cross on foot in order to reach the lagoon's entrance.

After squeezing through a narrow crevice in the rock wall bordering the reef, Rhys splashed into the surprisingly deep, calm waters on the other side. It was more of a pond than a lagoon; the entire area was enclosed by tall, rocky cliffs and it was small enough that he could swim across the length of it in less than half a minute. There was a thin stretch of sand opposite the entrance, which, due to the rising tide, appeared to be getting smaller by the second.

Rays of sunlight filtered in from above, reflecting off the water and onto the rocks surrounding him. The light danced and shimmered, giving off the illusion that the stones themselves were glittering. The water was a lovely shade of green, and it was so clear that he could even see the sandy floor far below him. Terrifying animals aside, Aquator was so far every bit the paradise he had always imagined it would be. If anything, confirming it only made him feel worse; it was cruel for a place so beautiful to be the neighbor of its exact opposite.

He heard Jack splash into the water behind him just as he reached the sand. He finally decided to strip off his loose-fitting t-shirt, which was now soaked from his swim, and tossed it onto the sand, rolling his eyes when the gesture was greeted with a wolf whistle from Jack. "Like this isn't anything you haven't seen before."

Jack smirked as he emerged from the water, body glistening in the faint light. "Doesn't mean I can't enjoy the view, babe." To Rhys's surprise, Jack didn't follow the suggestive comment with a shameless leer or a blatant attempt at groping him. Instead, Jack simply plopped onto the sand beside him. "So," he said, "You ever plan on telling me why you know Phezzan?"

Rhys immediately tensed upon hearing the man's name. He willed himself to relax, and responded as casually as he could. "If you mean the guy from breakfast, I don't really know him. And he was the one who approached me." Like many things Rhys said, it wasn't technically a lie.

Jack didn't immediately reply, and for a moment, Rhys hoped that he would drop the subject. But then he said, "I may not know the guy, but I know of him. And he doesn't sound like the type to chat up random strangers."

Rhys sat in a contemplative silence, knowing now that he wouldn't be able to talk his way out of this, as he had done so many times in the past. To Jack's credit, for the most part, he didn't sound angry so much as curious, with just a hint of suspicion. He lifted his eyes, their gazes locking. He had promised his loyalty to this man, and now he was beginning to wonder if that meant giving up everything, even the parts of himself that were long buried.

Rhys licked his suddenly dry lips. "Phezzan helped me, a long time ago. He's the reason why I was able to move to Eden." He took in a deep, shaky breath. No turning back.

"I met him shortly before I left my home ... before I left Promethea."

* * *

Despite the combination of time, distance, and willful repression working together to gradually erode his memories, Rhys still remembered that particular day with remarkable clarity. He had spent the afternoon loitering around the outskirts of Seven Oaks, collecting money for train tickets. The plan was to leave for Aegis in the morning; the city housed one of the largest black markets on the planet, and it was far enough away that they would be long gone by the time Phezzan caught wind of the trade.

He had brought along an especially worn and frayed satchel that he nicknamed the Wishing Well due to its uncanny success at collecting coins. The string of the satchel was looped around the curved hook of his metal claw, causing the bottom of the bag to jingle each time he moved his arm.

He personally hated asking for money in Seven Oaks. There was too much competition, and despite the relative wealth of the residents, the neighborhood tended to attract trouble. That day was worse than usual, since the ash from the volcano hung so thick that even the air filters weren't able to weed out all of it. He could feel it gathering inside him with every breath, burning a trail down his lungs.

He wondered, fleetingly, if the people of Eden had a need for air filters.

A commotion to his left pulled him from his thoughts. The source of the sudden noise was a heavily-built man and his female companion, the both of them clearly off-planet visitors. The man appeared to be yelling into an ECHOcomm, and he tuned out in disinterest until he heard the man refer to himself as a vault hunter.

In all likeliness, the man was lying. Atlas had already pillaged the entire planet of its vaults; what more was there left to find? And vault hunter or no, the man was clearly looking for the sort of attention that he was actively trying to avoid. He spun on his heel and began to tiptoe in the opposite direction.

He froze when he heard a voice call out, "Hey, kid."

Reluctantly, he turned to face them. The lady was fishing something out from her purse, and after a few seconds of searching, she pulled out a half-melted candy bar and offered it to him. It was a generic brand of chocolate, one that was common even on Promethea. The sight of it made him acutely aware of how hungry he was; he remembered then that he had barely eaten all day.

Just as he reached out to accept it, the supposed vault hunter nabbed it instead. "Don't just _give_ it to him. Where's the fun in that?" The man leaned forward, dangling the candy in front of his face. "Show us, boy. What are you willing to do for this?"

Judging from his smug expression and singsong tone, the man was likely trying to impress or amuse his female companion. Instead, she gave the man's arm a rough tug. "What are you doing?" she hissed. "He's just a kid."

The man shrugged her hand off his shoulder. "Relax, I bet he's used to grovelling for food. It's funny what the people on this planet will do for stuff that costs so little."

From the corners of his eyes, he noticed that they had begun to gain the notice of other passersby, who were looking on at the ensuing scene with interest. He balled his hand into a fist at his side, his face burning with a mix of resentment and humiliation.

He briefly contemplated punching the man in the jaw with his metal claw. It would hurt like hell for the both of them, but it'd be worth it for the pleasure he'd feel from denting the asshole's face. Before he could act on that impulse, the lady managed to pluck the candy bar from the man's grasp. "Sorry about that," she said, smiling apologetically. "Here you go."

This time, he refused to reach out and grab it. He wanted more than anything to be able to smack her hand away and tell the two of them to piss off. But instead, he simply watched as the chocolate slipped from her hand into his opened satchel, landing inside it with a dull clink. The man made an annoyed "t'ch" sound as the two of them walked away.

He waited until they were out of sight before gathering his things. He was a few coins short of his goal, but he no longer cared—he just wanted to get the hell out of there. Just as he was about to leave, he was stopped by a young, clean-faced lady who had watched the whole scene unfold. She dropped a silver coin into his satchel, her gaze soaked with pity. That expression was the one he hated the most.

He ate the chocolate bar as he walked home, licking the wrapper clean as he finished.

When he arrived, his parents were counting coins on the floor. He emptied his satchel, adding his own contribution to the pile, and looked towards the back of the room, where the trunk containing the mineral shard was hidden beneath a tarp. It was strange to think that something as meaningless as a rock had the power to change the entire trajectory of his life.

He waited until after they were done counting and recounting the money before bringing up the cost of the shuttle ticket to Eden, the words clumsily tumbling from his mouth. It would, admittedly, eat up a big chunk of their profits. But his parents would still have enough money leftover to get by for a while.

As he spoke, he noticed the way his father's eyes glazed over, as they often did when he heard or saw something he disapproved of, and his mouth clicked shut of its own accord. He tried again with his mother, when the two of them were alone. She interrupted him mid-sentence, a weary sigh passing between her chapped lips. "I don't understand you," she said, his heart sinking at the words. She sounded tired, as if time itself were chipping away at her. "How many times am I going to have to tell you this before it sinks in? There's nothing for us on Eden. But this," she knocked on the wooden lid of the trunk, " _This_ is real. And it's the best gift we'll get in life. You need to accept that."

She walked away from him without another word, stooping down to collect the coins into a jar. In that moment, he finally understood, with a sick, startling clarity, that his life had already been planned out for him, and no amount of stolen treasure would ever change it. In the end, it didn't matter how much money they would get in exchange for the mineral. Eventually, it would run out, just like it always did. And then what?

He could see his future stretched out before him: endless days of begging and stealing from other, richer, _better_ people. And one day, he would grow complacent with his meager lot in life, just like his parents.

The thought of it alone made his chest seize up in yearning. There had to be another way—another path available to him. There had to be more to his life than this.

His gaze absently wandered to the spot where the mineral was hidden, and like a forest set ablaze, a wonderful and terrible idea took hold of him.

He told his mother that he would drop into the nearby town to gather provisions. As he left, he glanced over his shoulder to look at her one last time, whispering an apology as he crossed the threshold.

Once he was far enough away, he veered off the main road and headed for the abandoned military base a mile away from town. He had snuck in a few years prior, back when the base was actually abandoned, and still had a faint recollection of the building's layout. The heavily armed guards patrolling the base caught him almost immediately, and he was likely the only intruder in the history of the facility to ever feel immensely thankful for the brightly lit hallways. Not that Prometheans were above shooting at kids—but most of them at least had the decency to ask a few questions before opening fire.

All it took was a mere mention of the stolen mineral, and he was led by gunpoint to the deepest chamber of the base. There were guns everywhere he looked: piles of them thrown carelessly in the corners of rooms, some laying dissected on tables and work benches, and one cradled in the arm of every person he came across. He wondered if the base had even more weapons in it now than when it was operated by the Crimson Lance.

Phezzan had been inspecting a new shipment of rifles when he was roughly shoved into the same room. He froze as he felt the weight of Phezzan's gaze drift to him, his hands trembling from nervousness. This was a big gamble, one that was not likely to end well. But if it _did_ work...

After some light questioning, he told Phezzan that he not only knew where the mineral was being kept, but also who stole it and where they were planning to go. He offered to tell him all their hideouts and all other places they would think to go for help. And what he wanted in return for the information was to be a stowaway on the next shipment to Eden. His voice quivered violently as he stated the terms of the deal, hyper-aware of each minute shift in the man's expression.

"Why Eden?" Phezzan asked, his eyes gleaming. "Do you know someone there?"

He shook his head. He wanted to go to Eden for the same reasons as anyone else: because there were schools and work and as long as you didn't break the rules then no one asked questions. And most of all, it was a whole galaxy away. He could do anything, _be_ anything he wanted.

His hands balled into fists as he let everything pour out of him in one big, cathartic rush, each word unleashing years of suppressed shame and bitterness. He deserved better than this. And he knew with an unshakable certainty that the life he was meant to live was out there, somewhere. All he needed was to reach out and grasp it.

His voice was hoarse by the time he finished, his throat tight and eyes brimming with unshed tears. There was a momentary silence, one interrupted only by the sound of him sniffling once, then twice. Finally, in a slow, pensive tone, Phezzan replied, "We don't send many shipments to Eden. The next one isn't for another three weeks. You'll have to fend for yourself until then."

He stared up at the man, eyes bright and burning with hope.

"I'll have someone forge your travel documents, at no extra cost," Phezzan added with a thin smile. "Only because I find you somewhat interesting."

He answered all of the man's questions and more, offering every bit of information he had. Though he was aware that Phezzan could very well have him killed the moment the mineral was retrieved, he felt as though he had passed some sort of test and that, for whatever reason, Phezzan was now sufficiently curious enough to see the deal through.

When he turned to leave, he paused mid-step as Phezzan asked for his name. When he told it to him, the man responded with a frown that etched deep, disapproving lines onto his face. "That's a name that only a peasant would have. The people of Eden will sniff out the Promethean in you the moment you introduce yourself. Think of a new name."

This gave him pause. He had never given much thought to his name before, but now that he had the option to choose, one name immediately came to mind. It was the name of a character in a story he often read, one who was part-robot and part-man. But instead of the welded iron and scrap metal that masqueraded as his own missing forearm, the character's body parts were made of sleek, shiny chrome. They had an odd name too, one that couldn't be traced to any specific planet or language.

"Rhys," he answered, a sense of finality in his tone. "I think I'd like to be called Rhys."

* * *

Rhys sat in a nervous stillness as he stared down at his hand, watching the sand sift through the gaps in his metallic fingers. Jack had barely made a sound throughout the entire telling of his story, and he now lacked the courage to look him in the face. He hadn't spoken of Promethea at all since college, and this was his first time ever telling anyone about his parents or the deal he made with Phezzan.

Though Jack had always been hard to read, his thoughts were never more mysterious to Rhys than in that moment. He wondered if Jack was bothered by the fact that his parents were, by his definition, bandits, or by the fact that Rhys had been so eager to betray them. He wondered if any of it still mattered.

Just as Rhys had reached his limit, his anxiety peaking from the abnormal stretch of silence, he barely stifled a surprised gasp as he felt the press of a mouth against his jawline and broad, calloused hands on his chest, eager fingers mapping the familiar contours of his body.

Rhys squirmed at the sudden intimacy. "Don't ... don't tell me my childhood sob story _turned you on_?"

"So what if it did?" Jack replied, voice gruff and devoid of its usual biting edge. An emotion swirled in his eyes, one that Rhys had never seen before—it was both piercing and explosive, like a plume of red fire stretching towards the night sky.

Jack circled his arms around his waist, guiding him downwards onto the sand. Rhys melted into the embrace, fully entrusting his weight to Jack as he let himself fall backwards, his back landing softly against the ground.

Jack crawled onto him not a moment later, his still-moist skin radiating heat. Rhys glanced to his side, at the small crevice on the opposite end of the lagoon that exposed them to the rest of the world. "Jack-" he began, but the rest of his protest was swallowed in a kiss so searing that his complaints were instantly wrenched from his mind. Any lingering shame he felt was swept away with the encroaching tide, and he thought, vaguely, that anyone who stumbled upon them would be greeted with quite the show.

Jack hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his shorts, easily rolling the scant scrap of clothing to his knees with a few sharp tugs. With a grunt, Jack's half-hard cock swelled as he rutted against his hip with an uncharacteristic impatience, as if desperate for the friction. Rhys felt his own cock stir in response to his lover's naked, unrepressed desire, his head twitching and glistening in the open breeze. Jack leaned back into a kneel as he clawed Rhys's shorts off his legs entirely before spreading them apart, one hand grabbing at the underside of his knee while he brought the other to his mouth, coating his fingers in saliva. They slipped inside Rhys with little resistance, his muscles still loose and pliant from the night before.

Jack remained unusually quiet, gazing down at him with such heat and intensity that Rhys was forced to shyly divert his eyes. He could feel the rising ocean water nipping at his side, dragging at the sand as it made its retreat. Jack withdrew his fingers with a slick pop, messily tearing at the hem of his own shorts to free his now fully erect cock.

Rhys's only warning was Jack's tightened grip on his leg and a slight lifting of his hips. In the next second, his breath caught in his throat as he felt Jack plunge into him with a single hard thrust. His hands shot up to grip Jack's arms, fingers digging into his biceps as he attempted to anchor himself, and Jack shivered with pleasure, hissing softly as he buried himself to the hilt. He quickly pulled back before ramming into him once more, thrusting wildly, as though he were hanging by only a thread of self-control. Jack shifted his weight onto one arm and reached down, aiming for Rhys's neglected cock, but Rhys blocked his hand, shaking his head as a faint smile curved his lips. "Not yet."

Jack's nostrils flared in response to his coy request, eyes narrowing as he braced him by the hips, his movements growing even more erratic. Rhys moaned and sighed at each spike of pleasure, feeling contented and victorious and gloriously _wanted_. He was no longer some pitiful, soft-spoken street urchin who begged for scraps and preened at the smallest lick of attention. Now, he was someone desirable, someone who had power over others. Even over Handsome Jack.

Rhys dug his heels into the back of Jack's waist, pulling their bodies even closer. He watched Jack's face hovering just inches above him, his eyes heavily lidded and brow furrowed in concentration. His whole body shuddered with his next thrust and Rhys knew that he was close to finishing. He let his hand trail from Jack's arm to the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair. "Touch me. Please."

"Say my name." Jack's breath hitched, and for a second, Rhys thought he might come undone right then and there.

"Jack. _Jack_."

Jack's hand trailed down his chest and curled around the base of his dripping cock, his thumb smearing Rhys's own precum over the tip. It took only a few pumps to push Rhys over the edge, Jack's name falling from his lips once more as he bucked against him, riding out his orgasm. Jack followed a few short seconds after him, burying his face into the curve of his neck to muffle his groans of pleasure. Through the haze clouding his mind, Rhys noted that the heat from Jack's face penetrated his mask, warming his skin where they touched.

The two of them simply laid there and curled against each other as they regained their breath. Rhys let out a long sigh, feeling tired but sated. Jack eventually slipped out of him and lifted himself off, giving Rhys enough allowance to crawl out from underneath. He gingerly waded into the water and cleaned himself off as best as he could, grimacing at the stubborn sand grains seemingly embedded in every nook and cranny of his body.

He washed out his shorts before pulling them on and climbing back onto the shore. Jack eyed him as he approached, clothed and ... calm, almost, as though some turbulence within him had been momentarily put to rest. Rhys slowly lowered himself onto the sand, entirely conscious of Jack's prolonged stare.

"You're just full of surprises, aren't you, Rhysie?"

Rhys shrugged sheepishly. "Am I?"

Jack redirected his gaze to the water and to the gentle waves quietly lapping at the shore. "Some men are just meant to achieve greatness. I'm thinking the two of us are proof of that."

Rhys glanced at him, eyes searching, but he said no more. His chest swelled with pride, regardless; it was the only time he ever recalled Jack grouping anyone together with himself. He scooted towards Jack, close enough to feel the heat from the other man's skin mingle with his own, and in that moment, his future— _their_ future—seemed as boundless and traversable as the impossibly vast ocean surrounding them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **To: Rhys**   
>  **Re: aquator is actually kinda cool**   
> 
> 
> my responses are inline in red >:D
> 
>   
> _> all the animals are unnecessarily large but the planet is really pretty. i took a bunch of pictures that are attached to this email._  
> 
> 
> thank you! i'm glad you're enjoying your vacation. the water looks so clean!!
> 
>   
> _> and the yacht is super nice tho of course your dad got a boat with only one bed..._  
> 
> 
> tmi :/
> 
>   
> _> oh and i got your seashells! and naturally they're all massive. each one is at least as big as my face._  
> 
> 
> wow. you have a pretty big head, so that's saying a lot. (jk ilu <3)
> 
> Song for this chapter: [Nujabes - Feather](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jfFTT3iz740)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	16. Pride pt.I

"-got in my daily calisthenics just by running all over the goddamn place cleaning up the shitshow that was this morning's product showcase. So, you know, at least I'll be ripped while I'm bashing the skulls of all the mindless goons responsible. Though I doubt there's much in there to begin with. I bet their heads'll just deflate, like a friggin flat tire-"

Bradley threw Rhys a look as Jack continued raging at all of Helios through the intercoms. "Well, I suppose his good mood couldn't last forever."

"It took a whole month for it to fade, though," Rhys said with a shrug. "That's gotta be a record."

Life had seemed oddly peaceful in the weeks following their vacation. To his own surprise, Rhys felt more at ease around Jack, as if any tension between them had frayed and snapped, and then gently twined together to become something new. It helped that Aquator's warm, natural sunlight and fresh air seemed to have done wonders for Jack's temperament; a couple days after they had returned, Angel had cheerily informed him that Jack's stress levels had "dropped to a much more manageable 5."

That was, until Hyperion's newest shotgun prototype had practically blown up in his face during a presentation to investors. _So much for his stress levels_ , Rhys thought.

"Will you be heading to Pandora again tonight?" Bradley asked, drawing him from his thoughts. "Be careful not to spend too much time down there. You might go native."

"Thanks for the warning," Rhys dryly responded. "I'll try to resist the temptation."

He idly glanced at his opened ECHOscreen upon noticing a new message filter to the top of his email feed. His eyes widened as he skimmed the contents.

> **URGENT: Opportunity Expenditures**
> 
> Rhys,
> 
> Could we chat for a few minutes before you leave for Pandora tonight? I just have a few questions about the amount of resources we've been allocating to Opportunity. I could meet you at your office if that's easier for you.
> 
> -Yvette

Rhys felt a tightness in his throat as he clicked out of the message and filed it away in a private folder. It was becoming more and more apparent that Yvette had no interest in speaking to him about anything but work—and worse yet, her questions seemed designed to deliberately provoke him, as if she were testing his reactions. He sighed, wondering how angry she would be if he simply ignored her outright.

But despite his best efforts, Yvette managed to corner him anyway.

After his last meeting, he had avoided his office altogether and headed directly from his penthouse to the loading dock. Unfortunately for him, Yvette had apparently anticipated his actions and was waiting for him near the elevators.

"Hi, Rhys," she said, a tight smile on her lips. "I'll walk you to your shuttle." Before he could protest, she grabbed the handle of his luggage and wheeled it down the hall. "You're a light packer."

"Well, I'll only be down there for a couple days." He followed her with a sullen gait, his heels scuffing lightly against the tiled floor as he awaited the inevitable interrogation. It was far from his first time wondering why Yvette bothered to ask him questions that they both knew he wasn't allowed to answer.

"Visiting Opportunity again?" she inquired, her tone sharp enough to cut the air itself. "Why are you going down there so often? Opportunity is just a housing project, isn't it? I don't see why the head of information security needs to visit every weekend."

"I'm not allowed to say what I'm doing there." He eyed the taut muscles of her back and the stiffness of her squared shoulders. "But you already know that."

She stopped and turned just enough for him to see her profile and the sad, weary tilt of her lips. "Yeah, I know. But at this point, I figured it wouldn't hurt to ask again."

He quirked a brow at her cryptic response, but her head snapped forwards once more, her gaze aimed at the door near the far end of the windowless corridor. To his surprise, she said nothing else for the remainder of their walk.

Yvette silently returned his luggage to him once they reached the entrance of the dock. Rhys felt the lingering warmth of her hand on the otherwise cool plastic handle and he paused, a bud of regret blooming in his chest. He worried his lip, struggling to gather the scattered thoughts in his mind.

"I know that things have been ... weird between us these past few weeks," he began, punctuating the statement with a cough, "And though I'm still not totally comfortable with you dating Vasquez, I think I'm even less comfortable with the fact that the two of us aren't really acting like friends anymore. So I guess ... if you're willing to talk to me about anything other than work, then I'll try to be a little less of a jerk about your dating choices." He gripped the handle a little more tightly, embarrassed by his own ... apology? Plea for a truce? Whatever this was.

The lines of Yvette's face smoothed, her eyes widening with surprise. The tightness fled from her now-slumped shoulders, as if his words had softened some growing hardness within her. "Rhys, I..." her voice faded before she could complete her thought. She stepped forward, and before Rhys could process what was happening, her arms circled his shoulders and pulled him into a loose, slightly awkward embrace. His body reflexively tensed at the contact but he forced himself to return the hug, his flesh hand resting stiffly on the shallow groove of her back.

She released him after a few moments, wearing a smile still tinged with sadness. "Thanks, Rhys. We should have dinner with Vaughn when you return. Your treat, of course."

"Of course." Rhys grinned at the easy familiarity of the remark. He waved goodbye as he entered the dock, noting the gloom in Yvette's gaze and trying his hardest not to dwell on it.

* * *

Rhys traced the now familiar path to Angel's bunker. Though it had been less than a year since he first found the place, it was nearly unrecognizable from what it once was; seeing how the surrounding area looked now, Rhys was mostly just thankful that the security had been fairly lax when he first snuck in.

Angel's warmth pulsed in his head as he approached. "Aww. No present this time?"

"Of course there is," Rhys replied with the cheekiest smile he could muster as he retrieved a small box from his pocket and brought it to his face, allowing Angel to view it through his ECHOeye. "Though I probably shouldn't have. I'm spoiling you."

"Maybe. But you like spoiling me." He could hear the grin in her voice.

Rhys pocketed the box once more as he approached the door scanner. He felt a slight tingle as the scanning rays roamed his body—and froze when the lights around him suddenly blinked red. He glanced down at the door's touchpad screen, which read: ACCESS DENIED - FOREIGN DEVICE DETECTED.

_Is it this?_ Rhys wondered, thumbing the gift nestled in his jacket. He jerked upon feeling an electric jolt at the back of his neck, followed by the acrid smell of burnt plastic. "Angel?" he called out. "What's going on?"

"Rhys," she began, her voice slow and careful. "There's something on the back of your collar."

He brought his hand to the back of his neck, near the area where he had felt the jolt, and gingerly fingered what seemed to be a warm, coin-shaped piece of metal. He used his nails to pry the object off his shirt, frowning as it tore a few threads of cloth upon detaching. It was a silver chip, its smooth, reflective surface marred only by a hole the size of a needle. A quick scan with his ECHOeye confirmed his fears; a high-end microcamera was hidden within, one designed to broadcast live video feed. He felt an engraving on its back and flipped the chip over, eyes widening at what he found.

The word Dahl stared up at him, etched into the silver in thick, clean lines.

"I disabled it," Angel said, "So you should be able to clear the scan now."

He was allowed entry a few short moments later, the dead chip pressed into his palm. "Do you know who could've put this on me?" Rhys asked as the platform descended. "Whoever it was has to be a spy ... right?"

There was a long pause, then: "I think you would know better than me."

Rhys lifted his brows at the unusually evasive reply. He had the distinct impression that Angel was shielding something from him—a suspicion that he found deeply unsettling. After all, what did they really have to hide from each other, at this point?

She immediately inquired about the gift the moment he stepped into her chamber, and though it seemed to be a blatant attempt at distracting him, he decided to play along for the time being. He raised the lid of the box and reached inside, triggering a high-pitched beep followed by a flurry of movement. Angel gasped as a mechanical hummingbird flew out from the box and hovered a few inches from Rhys's face.

"It's supposed to be remote-controlled," Rhys said, prodding the bird's underside with his knuckle. "But I figured you wouldn't need it."

Angel experimentally traced a high upwards arc with her finger and smiled in delight when the bird followed the exact path she had outlined. It emitted a mechanical chirp at regular intervals as it glided in wide circles around the room before slowly and gracefully landing atop Rhys's shoulder.

"What should I name it?" Angel asked as the bird lightly nuzzled its head against Rhys's cheek. Though its feathers were synthetic, they were soft enough to pass as organic.

Rhys shrugged, causing the bird to bounce on his shoulder. "I dunno. Birdy?"

Angel merely huffed in response.

"It's _your_ bird now," Rhys said, scooping it into his cupped hand. "You should name it."

Angel cocked her head in contemplation before eventually suggesting, "What about Hope?"

Rhys quirked his brow. A name like that seemed a little too on-the-nose, but...

"It's better than your suggestion," Angel added with a pout.

"Hope it is then." Rhys's eyes trailed the bird as it looped and dove through the space around him, Angel's laughter chiming in the air. His own smile fell as he felt the metal chip bite into his palm, his finger idly tracing the engraving on its back. He had changed his outfit right before leaving for the dock, and he had only spoken with one other person from then till the moment he stepped into the bunker.

But it couldn't be her ... could it?

* * *

Upon returning from Pandora, Rhys left his luggage in the care of his assistant and snuck down to the apartments in the lower rings of Helios. Though his current destination was the same block of flats where he himself had lived over a year prior, the area already felt alien to him: in every direction, there were rows of plain, featureless doors lining the corridors, the clear reflective walls interrupted only by the occasional dab of Hyperion green and yellow.

In comparison to the executive floor, everywhere else seemed sterile and drab. Rhys wondered how he was ever satisfied living in such a place.

He stopped in front of a door towards the end of the passage and took a deep breath before knocking. Yvette answered a few short moments later, her eyes widening in surprise upon seeing him. "Rhys? I thought you weren't returning from Pandora till tomorrow?"

"I decided to head back a little early. Mind if I come in?"

Yvette stiffened at the suggestion, but despite her apparent reluctance, she stepped aside to let him through, the door creaking unpleasantly as it swung on its hinges. Rhys surveyed the living room beyond the entrance, which had changed considerably in the months since he had last visited. The most ostentatious addition was the gaudy centerpiece on her coffee table: a tacky, gold-coated statue of a curvy vase with roses. Rhys felt repulsed at the sight of it; the thing reeked of Vasquez.

He turned away from it and instead directed his attentions to Yvette, who was headed towards her liquor cabinet. "Want anything to drink?" She shrugged as Rhys declined the offer. "Suit yourself."

She returned with a lowball glass of rum in hand, the fresh ice cubes clinking with her every step. She took a seat on a highback armchair at the furthest corner of her living room. "So what's this about? Did something happen on Pandora?" Any tension she felt was betrayed only by the slight crease of her forehead.

Rhys fleetingly wondered if he was doing the right thing, confronting his friend like this. He already had his answers; all that was driving him now was an irrational impulse to hear her confess—for her to admit it to his face.

He reached into his pocket and pinched the chip between his fingers, setting it onto the coffee table with the engraving on full display. He watched Yvette's face carefully, though her expression barely shifted at the sight of it. "Do you recognize this?"

She frowned and scrunched up her brows in scrutiny, looking a perfect, practiced picture of confusion. "Not at all. Is that a Dahl chip? What's it doing on Helios?"

Rhys slid the chip back into his curled fist, disheartened to hear what he now knew was a blatant lie. "I found it stuck to my collar after I arrived in Opportunity." He looked her directly in the eye as he added, "And I know for a fact that you were the only person who had the chance to put this on me."

Yvette set her glass down with a decisive click. "What are you trying to say?"

Rhys felt a frothing frustration within him, like a broth that had stewed for too long. "I'm asking if you're spying for Dahl," he snapped, voice rising with every word. "Why the hell else would you put this camera on me?"

She regarded Rhys through narrowed eyes that held a surprising lack of hostility, considering the weight of the charge he was making against her. She heaved a sigh as her shoulders suddenly went slack, her body hunched over and wilted like a dying flower. With the slightest shudder in her breath, she admitted, "It ... It's Vasquez. But I swear I didn't know he was a spy until he gave me that chip. He has information on some money I embezzled from my department, and he's been blackmailing me into doing what he wants. I know I should've just told you, but..." She reached up and swiped at the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

Rhys had initially assumed as much when he first began suspecting Yvette. After all, that version of the truth was easy to accept—comfortable, even. But as much as he had wanted to believe it, doubt filled the spaces of his mind, consuming him. After all, Vasquez knew how often Rhys changed outfits throughout the day and regularly made sneering jabs in reference to his habit. He would know better than to sneak a bug onto his shirt ... which left only one alternative.

Before leaving Pandora, Rhys had finally decided to ask the one person he fully trusted. "You look like you have something on your mind," Angel had said, as Hope nestled onto his shoulder. She had seemed hesitant, as if she were anticipating his question.

He lifted his eyes, their timid gazes meeting. "Is Yvette a spy?"

Angel stared down at her hands and said nothing.

"If she's the one who put the chip on me," Rhys continued, "Then I need to know. Even ... Even if she's my friend. Please, Angel."

She looked up at him, bright eyes glistening in the dimly lit room. In a small voice, she whispered, "Yes."

Yvette's eyes were glistening much like Angel's had, but unlike then, the sight of it now left Rhys feeling cold. His friend felt like a stranger to him, in that moment. He wondered, with a distant curiosity, whether he really knew anything about her at all.

"Why are you doing this?" Rhys asked, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could catch them. "Who are you, even? Have you ever told me a single honest thing?"

Yvette froze, her cupped hands shielding much of her face. She lowered them slowly, unveiling a noticeably darker expression than the teary-eyed gaze she had worn just moments before. Her fingers clawed at the cushion of her seat,  her nails digging into its underside with a white-knuckled grip. She bowed her head, as if in defeat.

"I'm sorry, Rhys."

It happened almost too quickly for him to process. One second, he was looking at Yvette's slumped body with something akin to pity. And in the next second, he was staring down into the long barrel of a pistol.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this," Yvette said, though Rhys barely heard it over the thundering of his heartbeat. "Believe it or not, I kind of liked you. Despite everything."

Her finger curled around the trigger. And then, suddenly, his vision went dark.

* * *

Panic had dulled Rhys's wits to the extent that he initially mistook the sudden darkness as a sign that he had fainted, or worse. Then he blinked and realized that the lights had simply gone out. He heard a soft rustling close by and leapt to the side just before hearing the crack of a gunshot, still loud enough to make his eardrums rattle in spite of the silencer attached to the barrel. He crouched low to the ground as quietly as he could manage, his movements slow and breaths soft.

Rhys nearly activated the night vision in his ECHOeye, but realized the blue gleam it emitted would reveal his position. He made a mental note to speak with R&D about developing a stealth mode ... if he even survived this. After all, it was only a matter of time before their eyes adjusted to the dark.

A gentle warmth blossomed at his temple, and Rhys felt instantly comforted by its presence, relief flooding his chest like water through a dam. But instead of the melodic, reassuring voice he had expected to hear, Rhys was greeted by a throbbing ache near his neural port. The warmth flared into a searing heat as it coursed down the wires of his cybernetic arm, electric fire in his veins.

His arm jerked away from him, as if possessed. His chrome fingers grasped at the darkness, circling around a bony wrist and squeezing hard enough to wring out a shriek of pain. He heard the thud of the pistol against the carpeted floor and his arm immediately swooped down to grab it, fingers splayed as they desperately clutched at the grip.

The palm of his flesh hand was moist with sweat as he aimed the muzzle of the gun perpendicular to his chest. On cue, the lights flickered to life at the same moment that a tearful voice echoed in his head. "Rhys, I'm so sorry," Angel said, her breath hitching at the pauses between words. "I know I shouldn't have done that, but ... But I saw her point that gun at you and I just..."

Rhys swallowed thickly as she trailed off, then faded away altogether. He wished he could send his thoughts to her instead of just his spoken words, so he could let her know "it's okay" and "I forgive you". Instead, he cocked the gun, its curved, silver edges gleaming in the cold light.

Yvette was sitting on the ground, staring up at him with a cautious, venomous gaze. He (or rather, Angel) had apparently knocked her onto the floor. She carefully stood up, propping herself up one leg, then the other. "So what now?" she asked. "Are you going to shoot me?"

Rhys gripped the gun more firmly. His hands were shaking. "I haven't decided yet."

Yvette flashed him a lifeless smile. "It wasn't all a lie, you know. I really could never bring myself to hate you. Even though I wanted to."

Rhys gritted his teeth, a slight stinging sensation creeping, unwanted, at the corners of his eyes. How did she expect him to react to that? Was he supposed to feel happy? Grateful?

Instead of responding, he simply asked, "What do you want?"

Yvette shrugged, flippantly, his question rolling off the sharp bend of her shoulders. "I want a lot of things. Money. Good food. Nice clothes. Revenge." She smiled, a dark twinkle in her eyes. "The usual shit."

When met with his questioning gaze, she added, "If you're really curious, ask that boyfriend of yours about what he did to the scientists who helped him, right before he found the vault on Elpis." She paused, her smile faltering. "But then again, I doubt he even remembers."

Rhys steadied his arms with a deep, slow exhalation, fighting the sickly feeling rising from his gut. Since she was referring to Jack, it was safe to assume that he had killed someone—someone Yvette had cared about. The tiny flame of hope within him flickered uncertainly. "I ... I don't want to hurt you."

Yvette's fingers twitched, her gaze softening almost imperceptibly. "I know, Rhys. But we all choose sides. And you chose yours a long time ago."

Rhys found that he couldn't bring himself to respond. He didn't think he had anything left to say to her.

There was a blur of movement as Yvette deftly dodged to his left, her legs so swift that only his ECHOeye could track her trajectory. It zoomed in on her hand, which clutched at something hidden in the folds of her clothing before returning with a short blade of sharpened steel—a hunter's knife. His eye warned him, with a cold, pedantic factualness, that he was within Yvette's attack range, and then drew red circular targets at the suggested weak points of her body. He aimed at the one nearest to the gun's muzzle, Nisha's words flashing through his head: " _tighten your grip and pull the trigger as steady as you can_."

There was a flash of fire, and then a dull roar. Rhys felt flecks of blood splatter onto the bare skin of his hands.

Yvette halted as blood flowed freely from the newly-formed hole just above her breast, painting a thick red streak down her white blouse. Her breath rattled in her chest as she took another step forward, and Rhys scrambled away from her, his back eventually bumping into the kitchen counter at the opposite end of the room. He kept the gun pointed at her shambling form as she took two, three, four steps towards him before finally crumpling into a heap on the floor, rivulets of blood soaking into the soft, pale carpet.

Time passed, marked only by the beats of Yvette's increasingly shallow breaths. Eventually, Rhys lowered the gun. He carefully knelt next to her and pried the knife from her now limp fingers, tossing it far from reach. "I'm sorry," he whispered, staring down at Yvette through wet, blurry eyes. She stared back, the hurt and fear made plain in her glossy gaze.

She let her arm slip down from her waist, fingers searching along the fibers of the carpet and landing weakly atop his own. "Don't leave."

"I won't." Rhys gave her hand a tender, reassuring squeeze. "I'm ... I'm here."

He gently lifted her head and rested it atop his lap, ignoring the warm, sticky wetness seeping into his clothing from the growing pool on the floor. He swept the hair from her forehead and quietly held her, until her breaths faded and nothing of her remained.

 


	17. Pride pt.II

Some time had passed before Rhys noticed the commotion at the front door. There was what sounded like a fist pounding against wood, followed by a voice, the owner of which Rhys immediately recognized, if not solely by the sheer contempt in his tone. "You sure he's in here? I swear, if I'm in this slum for no reason-"

When Rhys failed to react to a second round of knocking, he heard: "Oh, for cryin' out-", and then the deafening boom of a gunshot, loud enough to clear some of the haze clouding his mind. The door splintered as it burst open with a sharp crack. Jack strode inside with a snarl, his mask fixed in an expression of naked irritation—an irritation that peeled away the instant his eyes fell on Rhys.

Rhys thought it a little unsettling how quiet Jack was in that moment, as he carefully took in the scene before him. He let his gaze drop from the strange, slightly constipated look on Jack's face and redirected his attention to Yvette, whose head still sat on his lap. Her eyes were closed, unmoving. Rhys decided that it was the unnatural stillness of her body—the utter wrongness of it—that bothered him the most.

His flesh fingers were beginning to wrinkle from the blood, which was flowing too thick to dry. Despite the uncomfortable stickiness of it, Rhys didn't bother shifting his position. He felt drained of everything, as if his body had been gutted and hollowed out.

From the periphery of his vision, he noticed Jack's approach, the floorboards creaking softly under the strain of his weight. "Come on, kid. Let's get outta here." Rhys reflexively flinched away when he felt Jack's hands scoop him by the armpits and attempt to tug him to his feet. "Rhys," he said, in a hybrid of a hiss and a drawn out sigh. There was an odd, distressed quality to his voice that Rhys had never heard before.

He risked a glance up at the other man and noted the hardness of his gaze and the clench of his jaw, muscles drawn so taut that he could see them twitching beneath his mask. "Jack," Rhys finally said, his name coming out as a hoarse croak. Jack merely grimaced in response.

With Jack's assistance, Rhys eventually laid Yvette back down onto the floor. Bile threatened to bubble up from his throat when she fell onto the carpet with a wet squelch, much like a boot landing in a muddy puddle. He clung onto Jack for support as he struggled to stand, his legs tingling from sitting on his knees for too long. Jack responded in kind and wound his arms tightly around his middle, allowing Rhys to lend his weight to him, and Rhys gladly sunk into the embrace, burying his face into Jack's chest and obscuring Yvette from view.

"Life sure is a bitch, ain't it?"

Despite the crudeness of the message, the words were spoken softly and with a surprising gentleness. Jack used his knuckles to rub soothing circles on his back, easing his knotted muscles, as Rhys blinked the wetness from his eyes. _Stop thinking about it_ , he told himself. _Stop thinking_.

He allowed Jack to lead him out of the room, burying his face even deeper into the folds of Jack's clothing.

Not a single word passed between them as they made their way back to the executive floor. Rhys supposed that he made quite the spectacle of himself, clinging to Jack like a child would its mother, sleeves and pants dyed red, as if he had just emerged from a blood-slicked tunnel. Having Jack at his side was apparently explanation enough; one-by-one, every person who roamed within their line of sight would abruptly divert their gaze towards the floor, wide-eyed and pallid. Rhys thought it almost comical, how they reacted to their presence the same way they would a swarm of ants.

When they arrived at Rhys's penthouse, Jack immediately dropped him off at the bathroom. "Clean yourself up, babe," he said, mouth set in a flat, grim line. "I have some shit to take care of, so ... so just tell Angel if you need anything, alright?"

Rhys nodded mutely as he began unbuttoning his shirt, gingerly shedding the thin, sticky cloth from the spots where Yvette's half-dried blood clung to his skin, like scabs. Jack announced his exit only with the quiet click of the door closing.

He opted for a bath instead of a shower, a sigh escaping from his lips as he dipped into the tub of steaming water. He watched with morbid fascination as the blood melted off his skin and swirled into the water, gradually tainting its color with its whip-like tendrils. "Angel," he called out and knew, instinctively, that she was listening. Her familiar warmth greeted him in reply. "How long did you know?"

The silence stretched for so long that Rhys begun to wonder if she would answer him at all. Finally, she said, "I caught one of her outgoing messages a little over a year ago. I've been keeping an eye on her since then, but she kept a low profile, for the most part. Until a couple days ago, that is." A pause, then, "I'm sorry, Rhys."

Rhys sunk further into the tub, choosing to say nothing. The shock had given way to a dull, creeping chill that seemed to spread outwards from his chest, leaving him lethargic and numb. He leaned back fully and submerged his head, grimacing as he tasted the metallic flavor of the water on his tongue. He reemerged with a gasp, wiping the droplets from his eyes.

"Before," Angel said, suddenly, and only then did Rhys realize that her warmth had never left him, "I used to think that if I tried hard enough, I could protect everyone. Even after Jack put me here, I still thought that if I was just careful, then I could use my abilities to help anyone I wanted." She paused in thought, as though she was talking to herself just as much as she was talking to Rhys. "But now, I'm starting to think that, at some point, you have to choose. You have to choose which people to protect and which ones you're willing to sacrifice." She tripped over the last word, her voice cracking, as if the admission had broken something inside her. Though it was far from the first time Rhys wished he could hug Angel, he never felt the impulse more strongly than in that moment.

"I'm sorry," Angel repeated, the apology followed by a soft, sad little hiccup. Rhys wondered if she was crying.

"Me too," he replied. He scrubbed all traces of blood from his body, Angel's words echoing in his mind. The metallic stench clung to him, lingering long after he had washed the blood off and watched it retreat down the drain in a whirlpool of red.

* * *

Rhys was darkly amused to discover that the purging of enemy informants had become such common practice at Hyperion that their HR department developed a standard procedure for dealing with the aftermath of such events. Company representatives were sent to Demophon to question Yvette's relatives, but as expected, they had been kept largely in the dark. On Helios, all of Yvette's close associates, with the obvious exception of Rhys, were put under house arrest while the legal team scoured their every possession. Vaughn was one of the people targeted, as was Vasquez.

Rhys finally spoke with Vaughn the day after he had been cleared to leave his apartment. They met up in a hallway just outside the accounting wing, and Rhys had only just caught sight of Vaughn emerging through the door when the normally meek man suddenly yelled, "What the _hell_ happened, Rhys?"

Rhys gaped, startled by the outburst, and Vaughn stomped towards him, a deep crease marring the gap between his brows. "The people raiding my apartment wouldn't tell me anything. Just that Yvette was a mole and that _you_ were the one who killed her!" Vaughn emphasized the statement with a sharp jab of his finger into Rhys's shoulder. He then crossed his arms and awaited his response, eyes slightly narrowed in accusation. They were beginning to draw glances from nearby onlookers, though they knew better than to openly gawk.

Rhys recounted the events of the day in question as best he could, leaving out any mentions of Angel's involvement. Upon describing the scuffle in Yvette's apartment, Vaughn's expression shifted from one of suppressed outrage to shock and then, finally, to quiet, contemplative sadness. "I had no idea," Vaughn said once he had finished. "She was my first friend on Helios, and I never had a clue."

"Probably because she didn't want you to know."

His words seemed to make something in Vaughn snap. He bellowed in an uncharacteristically deep voice before kicking over the nearest trash can, causing red lights to flash throughout the hall in warning. Vaughn's bravado diminished in an instant and he stooped over to right the can, sheepishly returning the displaced garbage into the basket.

"Um," Rhys said, bewildered. "Are you gonna be okay?"

Vaughn dumped the last piece of filth into the trash and dusted his hands. "I dunno, man. I mean, she didn't tell us, and she apparently didn't tell her family either. If you can't trust friends and family, then who _can_ you trust?"

Rhys wasn't sure if he was qualified to answer; after all, he had spent most of his life not truly trusting anyone. "I think," Rhys began, stringing his thoughts one-by-one, like beads on a bracelet, "I think that when you really trust someone, you give up power to that person. You make yourself vulnerable. And I doubt Yvette was willing to do that for anyone."

Vaughn said nothing in reply, allowing his silence to speak for him. Out of politeness, Rhys asked him out to lunch, but Vaughn predictably declined and said that he'd prefer to be left with his thoughts. After their brief meeting, Rhys didn't see Vaughn again for days afterwards.

Due to his proximity to Rhys, Vasquez's house arrest stretched on the longest, which gave Rhys ample time to arrange his transfer, as well as begin the arduous process of looking for his replacement. He kept a close eye on the legal team's investigation of his (soon-to-be former) assistant and was dismayed to find that, aside from some small-time embezzlement and bribery, his record was annoyingly clean.

The transfer was finalized the day that Vasquez was released from house arrest, and Vasquez managed to accost him that same afternoon, as Rhys was on his way to a meeting room on the lower levels. With a look of pure, indignant fury, Vasquez shoved a weighty piece of paper into his chest—from the texture alone, he recognized it as the transfer order he had signed earlier that morning. "Assistant Vice Janitor?" Vasquez hissed. "Is this your idea of a joke?"

Rhys neatly folded the paper into a square and shoved it into the front pocket of the other man's jacket. "Honestly, Vasquez? After everything that's happened, you're lucky you're not dead."

He saw a flicker of fear flash across Vasquez's eyes, though it was quickly smothered by another, harsher emotion. "Look, I ... I didn't know about Yvette, okay?" he said, his throat seeming to constrict around the words. "She never told me anything. I really thought that she..." He trailed off, his fists clenching at his side. When their gazes met once more, he had a harder look in his eyes. "They didn't find a single thing linking me to her. You ... you can't do this."

"Did you forget, Vasquez? I'm an executive. I can do whatever I want." Rhys took a perverse pleasure in the way the man's face fell, his desperation and panic now fully exposed. With a thin smile, Rhys added, "Now get out of my way."

After a moment's hesitation, Vasquez took a single step backwards. He adjusted his tie and then straightened his back, standing slightly taller. "You'll regret this, Rhys," he spat. "This isn't the last you've seen of Hugo Vasquez." After delivering his hackneyed threat, Vasquez finally stomped away, making sure to nudge him when they were shoulder-to-shoulder.

Rhys rolled his eyes and continued making his way towards the meeting that he was now late for. As he neared the door, he felt Angel creep into his neural port. "He was telling the truth, you know," she said, in a soft voice. "About Yvette. He really didn't know."

"So what?" Rhys muttered, the words coming out rougher than he had intended. "I don't care."

Angel wordlessly retreated, her warmth quickly fleeing from his temple. He supposed that the quick exit was her way of showing disapproval—her version of slamming a door in his face. And Rhys realized, in that moment, how very alone he felt.

* * *

Rhys returned to his penthouse after a long day of meetings and an equally long night spent holed up in his office. As loathe as he was to admit it, Vasquez's absence hit his workload even harder than he had anticipated. Demoting the man before finding a suitable replacement was proving to have been a less-than-brilliant decision.

He let out a rather embarrassing squeak when a voice suddenly greeted him from the direction of his kitchen. "Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but your liquor collection is absolute crap." Despite the complaint, Jack continued to pour himself a glass of freshly-opened bourbon. He casually leaned against the granite counter lining the kitchen wall as he took a generous sip, eyeing Rhys all the while.

Rhys sighed, wondering if his exhaustion showed on his face. "How did you-" he began, but then thought his question foolish; on Helios, locked doors meant nothing to Jack. Instead, he said, "If you wanted to see me, you could've just told me to drop by your office."

Jack knocked his glass back, downing it in one gulp before dropping it into the sink with a clatter. "I thought I'd shake things up, you know? Break the routine a little." He then chuckled at nothing in particular, and Rhys stopped a good distance away, eyeing him warily. Usually, when Jack acted weird, it was either because he was abnormally angry or abnormally happy—and depending on which one it was, he would adjust his behavior accordingly.

Rhys shrugged his jacket off and draped it across the arm of the nearest chair, hyperaware of Jack's gaze trailing his every movement. He stretched his arms above his head with an exaggerated yawn, and rolled his head back, experimentally. From the corners of his eyes, he saw Jack zero in on the exposed flesh and fought to hide a smirk. _Ah_ , Rhys thought. _So that's what he wants._

For some reason, Jack stood rooted to his spot, seeming unusually coy. Rhys shrugged at the man and figured that he'd go along with whatever game he was playing. "I'm gonna take a shower. Feel free to wait here and drink the rest of my crap liquor."

Rhys turned towards the hall adjacent to his kitchen, nearly missing the sudden flash of heat on Jack's face. He crept into the bathroom and left the door slightly ajar, fluorescent light leaking through the inviting gap and into the darkened hallway beyond. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips as he quickly undressed, excitement thrumming in his veins. Normally, Rhys would make more of an attempt to appear less eager, but he had just had an aggressively tiresome and depressing day. So to hell with it.

Rhys let out a groan as the hot water hissed from the shower head and drummed against his skin, letting his head droop forward as he leaned his palms against the seamless ceramic tiles layering the walls. Predictably, he heard the door creak open soon afterwards, followed by the rustling of clothes and the skid of the door sliding open and shut behind him.

Rhys leaned into the press of warm skin at his back, as thick, callused fingers dug into his hips. "Couldn't resist?" he asked with a smug little smile.

He felt a puff of warm air against his neck, and then the flick of a tongue, darting out for a quick taste. "I know an invitation when I see one." Strong hands skimmed up and around his waist, Jack's rough skin tickling the area above his navel.

Rhys felt his face flush from the surprisingly gentle caresses, as well as the heat of the water, which had already filled the room with a thick, steamy mist. "You started it. I'm surprised you didn't pounce on me in the kitchen, with the eyes you were making."

Jack's movements suddenly stilled. His voice lost its husky breathiness and returned to a more normal pitch as he said, "Well, with the way you've been moping around these past few days, I thought you might fall apart if I so much as pitched a tent in your direction."

Rhys frowned at the slight strain in Jack's tone. If he didn't know better ... he'd think that Jack was worried for him. He tried to turn and look the other man in the face, but Jack's hands clamped down on his hips, keeping him anchored in place. "I'm not that fragile," he murmured, so quiet that the shower spray nearly drowned him out. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you've fully ... broken me in. So to speak."

He felt Jack's laughter against his shoulders, a low rumble traveling from deep within his chest to his throat. "You bet your ass I have." Jack exhaled, warm breath mixing with steam, as the tension melted from his arms. He mouthed a lazy trail down the slope of his neck, and his hands mimicked the movement, fingers fluttering light kisses down Rhys's body, tracing every bump and groove along the way.

Jack groped lower and lower, prompting Rhys to choke out a needy moan when he cupped him by the balls, giving them a gentle squeeze before reaching further up and around the shaft of his half-hard cock. Rhys's flesh hand sprung up to grasp at Jack's hair, fingers knotting into the damp strands and tugging lightly in encouragement.

Rhys's hips moved at an increasingly frantic rhythm, thrusting into Jack's palm as each pump quickly brought him to an almost painful hardness. The shower spray cleansed his slick before it could gather, giving way to an odd sort of dryness. It only seemed to increase the roughness of Jack's touches, and soon Rhys was gasping and shuddering at even the slightest graze.

He felt Jack grin against his skin upon eliciting a particularly loud moan, and Rhys realized then that this was the first time the two of them had fooled around at all since before Yvette's death. In retrospect, it was really no wonder that a mere handjob had him mewling like a whore. He had gotten so used to having this—to having Jack.

Rhys leaned backwards for support, knees wobbling as pleasure coursed down his legs. He brushed against the rather obvious erection poking at his lower back, feeling his own cock twitch in response, and he rolled his hips, grinding against Jack and sandwiching his straining cock between their bodies.

Rhys grinned as he felt Jack's hand still at the base of his cock, the other man's erection noticeably swelling from the sudden friction. Jack's breath seemed to catch in his throat as Rhys continued rocking his hips against him, slotting his cock between the cheeks of his ass. He could feel precum dribbling onto his back, where the water couldn't reach it, and increased the pace, sensing that Jack was already close.

Jack gripped the side of his hip hard enough to bruise as he thrust against him, his other hand matching the rough, uneven tempo as best it could. Rhys practically collapsed against Jack as he came, his body melting against his. A few moments afterwards, he heard a low, slightly strangled groan, followed by a warm, sticky spray at his back.

The two of them simply stood there in a companionable silence as the hot water rained down on them, washing away all evidence of what had just occurred. Eventually, Rhys regained his strength, and just as he was about to step away to properly wash himself off, he felt Jack's arms circle his waist and pull their bodies even closer together.

Jack lightly pressed his lips against the shell of his ear just before whispering, "You don't need anyone else. Just me. Me and ... and Angel." He kissed him once more. "No one else," he added, for emphasis. There was a shaky vulnerability to his voice, one that made Rhys's eyes water from the sound of it alone.

Rhys merely nodded in response and sunk into the embrace, laying his hands gently atop the wiry arms spun tightly round his middle. Though it was not enough to root out the sense of unease that had settled in the pit of his stomach, Rhys still took great comfort in his words—and in the undeniable truth embedded in them.

He wasn't alone. Not as long as he had these two people, this ... family, of sorts, that he had created for himself.

Rhys closed his eyes as he felt the press of Jack's lips against his temple. "No one else," he repeated, too quietly for Jack to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Since you seem determined to turn Control Core Angel into a frickin' zoo, I had the brilliant idea of getting her a pet that is waaaay cooler than some dinky little bird."_
> 
> _Rhys watched on in utter bewilderment as Jack slapped the rump of a glittering, diamond-studded pony. It neighed in response, its hooves cheerily clacking against the floor tiles of Jack's office._
> 
> _In his head, Angel dryly remarked, "I saw that thing poop out a gun. Leave it to my father to turn a pony into a total freak of nature."_
> 
>  
> 
> Song for this chapter: [Now, Now - Prehistoric](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9QUPwMdqxjw)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	18. Interlude pt.III

"Hey, Angel? I've kind of been wondering about something ... for a while now."

Hm? What is it?

"Well, uh, since Jack's your father and all, I guess I'm wondering who, um ... who your mother is?"

...

"I mean, it's just that you and Jack never really talk about it, so I guess I'm kind of ... curious? You don't have to answer if you-"

It's okay, Rhys. She passed away when I was small, so I don't remember her all that well. But I probably look very similar to how she looked.

"Really?"

Well, I don't look anything like my father, so I assume I must have inherited everything from my mom.

"Oh..."

Is there some reason why you've been wondering about that?

"I guess it's just that Jack never really talks about her, ever. Or about his past in general. Sometimes I feel like I don't actually know anything about him."

Hmm. I'd say you know plenty. And honestly, who he was in the past isn't all that important anymore.

"...Who he was in the past?"

Yeah. He wasn't always ... how he is now. Actually, in some ways, he was a little like you.

"What."

Yup.

"No way. How is that even possible?"

It's not that huge of a stretch, if you really think about it. You might not be crazy and bloodthirsty like my father is, but you must share some similarities to get along as well as you do.

"...I guess I never really thought about it like that."

Well, until now, I hadn't either. I don't really think about the past all that often.

"Neither do I. And it's probably safe to assume that Jack doesn't either."

Hm. Yes, I think he's only capable of focusing on what's ahead of him. Though I doubt even _he_ could've predicted you.

"What do you mean?"

...Nothing. It's not important.

  


* * *

  


Rhys? Can I ask you something?

"No. No questions allowed."

...

"That was a joke."

It was a serious question, you know. You've ruined the mood.

"What mood? We were talking about the Space Vixens like two seconds ago."

...

"Uh, Angel? You still there?"

...

"Okay, seriously, what is it? You're starting to worry me."

Do you think that good people actually exist?

"...Huh?"

I mean, people who try to do the right thing all the time. Do you think those people exist?

"I'm not sure if I'm the right person to answer that question."

Who else am I supposed to ask? Jack?

"...Okay, good point. It's just ... I dunno, I think it's usually not that simple? There are probably good and bad consequences to every decision. It just depends on which outcome you like better."

But ... what if the decisions you make are bad for a lot of other people? Isn't it selfish to hurt others just to get what you want?

"Maybe it _is_ selfish, but what other option is there? I don't see the point in doing the unselfish thing if it isn't really what you want. You'll just make yourself miserable."

I guess that's true...

"..."

...

"You know. I think just the fact that you wonder about this kind of stuff already makes you way better than most people I know."

Considering the company you keep, I get the feeling that that doesn't mean much-

"Well, gee, thanks."

-But I do appreciate it. I'll ... I'll try to keep that in mind. Thank you, Rhys. I...

"...You?"

...Nothing. It's not important.


	19. Wrath pt.I

It crept up on them, like a shadow. In his idler moments, Rhys sometimes wondered how it had all begun. Perhaps with their utter failure to capture Sanctuary? Or maybe the three of them were simply blind to the fact that they had been traversing the same path all along, the trail stretching too far back to trace.

The debacle in Sanctuary was the prelude to a three-day stretch of silence. Rhys thought little of it at first; updates trickled in through Hyperion's many channels, providing the executives live updates on the increasingly grim developments on Pandora. Under the circumstances, Jack's utter lack of communication with the rest of Helios was more-or-less expected, holed up as he was inside his office. As for Angel ... Rhys convinced himself that she was simply too busy to talk.

When Angel finally contacted him, their conversations remained worryingly infrequent. She maintained a facade of cheeriness the few times they spoke, but her exhaustion manifested in the halting tone of her voice and the dark patches beneath her eyes.

Jack eventually emerged from his office and adopted something akin to a regular schedule. Whatever was happening on Pandora hadn't fully left him, however, and his temper continued to grow fouler by the day.

Rhys had thought that his own mood might lift once he finally visited Angel in person. But then Angel requested to be left alone that weekend "to recover" ... and immediately afterwards, she went silent for an entire week.

At the tail end of the long stretch, Jack's erraticism seemed to have reached its zenith, culminating in an impromptu executive meeting that was nothing more than a half hour of Jack holding them all hostage in a room as he went to town on anything and everything: Sanctuary, "baby-eating" bandits, the goddamn pretzels in his snack bowl, vault hunters ... sirens. By the end of it, Rhys was no longer certain exactly who or what Jack was angry with.

Jack's energy eventually petered out, and he dismissed them all with a wave of his hand and a flippant "what, nothing better to do than gawk at me like idiots?" As everyone else scrambled out, Rhys, to his own surprise, remained planted in his seat. He waited until his peers vacated the room before asking, "Are you okay? Is ... is something wrong?"

"Well, what in the hell _isn't_ wrong at this point?" Jack grabbed at his open decanter and tipped it into his drinking glass, draining the shallow, stagnant pool of alcohol at its bottom. "Between Sanctuary levitating in the air like a goddamn hovercraft and bandits destroying my shit left and right? Yeah, things are just fan-frickin-tastic."

Rhys shrunk back into his chair. He supposed he had a point. Even his own department, which was one of the least involved in the Pandoran conflict, had begun to feel the pain of recent events, mainly in the form of sudden budgetary cuts. If anything, the setbacks only seemed to spur Jack onwards; the worse things got on Pandora, the harder he worked to stop the bleeding.

"If it was just Lilith," Jack growled, spitting the name through clenched teeth, "I could handle it. But ever since this other one showed up..."

Rhys remembered that Angel had mentioned a "Lilith" once before, when he had asked whether she knew any of "her kind", so to speak.  At the time, she had spoken in a completely different tone of voice from the one Jack used now. His thoughts drifted to Angel, trapped in the bunker, alone. "Is the Vault really worth all this trouble?"

Jack's whole body stilled, his eyes flashing in reflexive outrage. "Excuse me?"

"Some of the other executives are wondering about it too. We're pouring so many of our resources into Pandora that we're actually losing money this month. That never happens, Jack."

"Yeah, it never happens because those morons don't have the balls to try anything new. Like I give a crap that their paychecks took a hit. Cry me a friggin' river. You don't get to be a legend without ... without making a few sacrifices along the way."

_Sacrifices_ , Rhys thought. In that moment, he had the distinct impression that something about Jack seemed off—moreso than usual. Though he wore the appearance of brash confidence, Rhys could hear the wild desperation lurking just beneath the surface. "What about Angel? I barely even hear from her anymore. And when I do, she always seems tired."

"She's fine." Jack's eyes narrowed, mouth wrinkling in one corner; Rhys knew him well enough to recognize this as a dangerous expression. "My baby's a big girl. She can handle a little extra work."

Rhys bristled at the other man's weirdly defensive tone. He eyed Jack's hands, which clutched at the edges of the conference table in a white-knuckled grip  "She hasn't contacted me all week. That isn't normal."

"Yeah, well, if you haven't noticed, life hasn't exactly been normal for anyone."

"I think that's all the more reason why we should at least do some things the way we regularly would. Angel and I haven't seen each other in weeks. I think I should visit, even if it's just for an after-"

"Woah, woah, woah," Jack said, holding his palms out in front of him. He shook his head as if to clear it, his mouth fixed in a rictus of barely-controlled anger. "What in the hell makes you think your scrawny ass is going anywhere near Pandora?"

"...Because I go down there pretty much every week?" Rhys couldn't resist adding some bite to his tone. He could sense where their conversation was headed, and he already hated it.

"Have you lost your mind? Or did you just forget about the fact that the vault hunter went rampaging into Opportunity just last week?"

Rhys balked. It was the first he had heard of it. Then again, it was usually Angel who informed him of such things. "I could bring extra security with me," he said, already sounding less assured. "I mean, it's not like Pandora wasn't already dangerous before-"

"You're not listening to me, Rhys." The words came out in one long hiss. Jack finally moved from his spot at the head of the long table and marched around its sharp corners, coming to a stop directly in front of him. "You're staying on Helios. And you're not going anywhere near Pandora until I finally civilize the whole damn planet."

Rhys noticed an odd tremor in Jack's voice as he stated his commands. But his anger overwhelmed any concern he might've felt. Without thinking, he spat, "What, Angel wasn't enough? You want to lock me in a cage too?"

Jack's face fell, his eyes going wide in shock ... and perhaps even a flash of hurt. Then Rhys quickly regretted his outburst as a feral wildness took hold of the other man's entire demeanor. Jack practically lunged at him, arms caging Rhys to his chair. Jack's wide, insane grin hovered from above, smothering most of his vision. "You know what, Rhys? That idea ain't half bad."

"Jack," Rhys said in a half-whisper, silently pleading for a truce. His fingers gently clutched at the sleeves of Jack's jacket, hoping that his touch might calm him.

Eventually, the grin slipped from his lips. Jack straightened his back with a drawn-out sigh, his hands running through his coiffed hair several times over and mussing the tamed locks. He scooped his drink into his hand and emptied what remained in one gulp. The glass landed with a sharp clatter, slamming back onto the table with such force that Rhys was surprised it hadn't shattered.

"They killed Nisha."

Jack was facing away from him as he said it, towards the windows overlooking Pandora. "What?" Rhys blurted. "How?"

"How do you think?"

The question gave him pause. Even without knowing the details, Rhys thought that he could imagine the scene of her death. She probably went out like a firework, blazing and bright. One last burst before slipping into the dark. It seemed appropriate, in a way.

"I'm sorry."

Jack's shoulders seemed to slump, just slightly. "Yeah, well. Nothing we can do about it now." Despite coldness of his words, he seemed subdued, as if the mania that possessed him had dimmed somewhat.

Rhys wanted to say something more, but words felt worthless, in that moment.

He spent most of that night awake in bed, considering his options. When he finally made his decision, he looked upon his empty room and called out, "Angel?"

But he received no response.

* * *

「I DO NOT THINK YOU KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING.」

"Will you relax already? We've gone down there a million times before. It'll be fine."

「YOU ARE DRAGGING AN UNCONSCIOUS MAN ACROSS THE FLOOR. IT IS NOT FINE.」

Rhys heaved as he managed to tug the guard's body behind a tall stack of crates, shielding it from the view of anyone who happened to walk in. "To be fair, this guy was asking _way_ too many questions. He must be new or something." He reemerged from behind the crates, shooting the loader bot a dirty look upon adding, "You know, this would've gone a lot faster if you had just carried him for me."

Loader Bot's eye gleamed red in the cold fluorescent light of the dock, his gears humming in disapproval.

「JACK WILL BE EXTREMELY ANGRY WHEN HE FINDS OUT. AND I WILL TELL HIM THAT ALL OF THIS WAS YOUR IDEA.」

Rhys stomped over to the nearest shuttle, punching the destination coordinates into a nearby console. "He isn't going to find out, alright? We'll only be in Pandora for a couple hours max. And besides, I doubt he'd notice even if we stayed for a while longer. He ... hasn't been thinking straight lately."

「NEITHER HAVE YOU.」

The shuttle door opened with a hiss. Rhys pinched the bridge of his nose, brows drawn, before throwing Loader Bot a weary look from over his shoulder. "I'm worried about Angel, okay? And I'm going down there with or without you. So are you coming along or not?"

After a momentary pause, Loader Bot's legs whirred into action, the floor quaking from the weight of his steps. The door softly clicked shut once Rhys took his seat near the nose of the cabin, with Loader Bot safely tucked away at its back.

The ride itself progressed as usual: smooth and steady across the stretch of void separating them from Pandora. But almost immediately upon arriving in Opportunity, Rhys's plan began to fray at the seams. The city itself was in a state of partial ruin. The skyscrapers, with their sleek, shiny surfaces that Jack preened over with such pride, now had noticeable holes blasted into them. All of Jack's statues had toppled over, each one sliced clean off at the calves, the rest of the body reduced to scattered rubble. _No wonder he's been so grumpy_ , Rhys thought.

They quickly made their way to the private garage, only to find that it too had been completely decimated in the attack. The garage's iron grate had almost completely melted away, and the vehicles inside were nothing more than piles of charred scrap metal. Rhys felt his heart drop like a bowling ball through his chest.

"Fuck."

Loader Bot rested his hand atop the nearest scrap.

「GOODBYE, FRIENDS. YOU SERVED US WELL.」

Rhys pressed his palm to his forehead, hoping to alleviate the sudden spinning. What would he do now? Walk to the bunker? Desperate as he was, that option was still incredibly unappealing.

He felt a hard tap on his shoulder, drawing him out from the thick veil of despair looming over his mind. He glanced at his companion, who then pointed at his own back.

「CLIMB ON.」

Rhys cocked a brow. "Excuse me?"

「DO YOU WANT TO SEE ANGEL OR NOT?」

Loader Bot pointed at his back once more, for emphasis. Reluctantly, Rhys walked directly behind the bot and stared at the grooves of his frame in search of a foothold. After a few seconds of awkward climbing, he firmly latched onto the bot's shoulder.

「HOLD ON TIGHT.」

-and the roar of jet propulsion were all the warnings Rhys received before he felt an oppressive gust of air, so strong he nearly lost his grip. When the wind calmed to a tolerably strong breeze, he foolishly glanced downwards and let out a terrified squawk upon seeing the spire of a skyscraper pass by from far, far below. He scrambled further up Loader Bot's back, clinging onto him more tightly.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me that you can _fly_?"

「YOU NEVER ASKED.」

Rhys looked outwards, towards the horizon. From their height, he could see the bunker some distance ahead of them, a cluster of metal marring the otherwise clear expanse of grass and rock. _Angel_ , he thought. _Please be okay._

They had just begun their descent when Rhys finally noticed the vehicle trailing behind them, seemingly stalking their path. He squinted, just barely making out the two figures sitting in the front seats. The car suddenly surged forward, and Rhys opened his mouth to shout a warning—but then found himself suddenly unable to move his lips. He felt stiff yet weightless, like a branch floating on water, and he realized then that he no longer felt the wind against his face. He might have thought that the entire world had come to a full stop, if it weren't for the thrum of the car engine, still doggedly pursuing them from below.

All at once, the wind returned, this time from below. Rhys barely had time to let out a strangled scream before the impact. And then everything went dark.

* * *

When he came to, the first thing Rhys saw was his cybernetic arm, twisted and partially detached at the elbow. He tried twitching his fingers to no avail; his forearm continued to drag lifelessly along the dirt. The second thing Rhys realized was that he was, in fact, being dragged; he could feel the pebbles scraping his back and the firm grip of a hand tugging him by his ankle.

"Sup."

With some effort, Rhys managed to turn his head, his eyes widening as they fell upon the face of the rather striking young woman strolling alongside him. She had vibrant red hair that danced in the wind, like a flickering flame. His gaze traveled downwards and lingered on the chain of blue tattoos trailing down her arm.

"Now _that_ was a rough landing," she said, apparently unfazed by his staring. "Be glad you fell on your metal arm instead of your real one. And that the loader bot took most of the damage."

Rhys tried his best to glance at his surroundings, seeing nothing dirt, cliffs, and the midday sky. "Loader Bot," he said, wincing at the hoarseness of his voice. "Where is he?"

The woman waved her arm in a vague direction. "What's left of it is out there, somewhere. Little punk took our car out before we blasted its legs off."

The words hit him like a punch to the stomach. He silently prayed that they had left him in a salvageable state. Or at least spared his AI.

Rhys craned his neck to glimpse the back of the woman who was dragging him, noting the blue tattoos lining her arm as well. _Great_ , he thought. _Kidnapped by sirens._ Jack was gonna kill him ... if he even survived this.

When he returned his head to its resting position, he noticed that the red-haired woman was regarding him with a cold smile. "You know, when we saw that loader bot flying someone out of Opportunity, we figured it would just be a messenger or some other random Hyperion grunt. But never in a million years did I think it would be _you_." Her voice dipped on the last word, hinting at the contempt lurking beneath her otherwise cool demeanor.

"Uhh. Surprise?"

The woman gratified him with an amused huff. Before she could say anything in reply, the one dragging him abruptly slowed. "Lilith," she said, plucking the ECHOcomm off her ear. "It's Jack."

Rhys stiffened, hope and fear surging through him all at once. Lilith's grin widened viciously as she lifted an unclenched hand. "Oooh, give it here! God, I'm gonna _love_ this." She easily caught the ECHOcomm in her palm, and the moment she plugged in, she said, "Hey there, asshole. How's this for karma, huh?"

She allowed Jack to speak for all of two seconds before cutting in with, "Considering that there's literally nothing stopping me from snapping your little lover boy here in half, I'd say we've been pretty gentle with him so far. After all, he's still in one piece." Her eyes trailed to his broken arm. "Well, mostly in one piece. Which is a lot more than we can say for Roland, right?" Her contempt reemerged, this time matched with a simmering, barely contained fury.

Jack apparently yelled his reply, and with such volume that even with the distance, Rhys could hear faint echoes of the other man's voice emanating from the comm's speakers. Lilith merely rolled her eyes before tearing the comm off her ear just as Jack's rant seemed to reach a crescendo. "Maya, catch," she said just before tossing the device back to its owner. She regarded Rhys with a victorious smirk. "That boyfriend of yours sounds like he's about to have an aneurysm. You must be a pretty sweet piece of ass for him to get so worked up over you."

Rhys returned her smirk with one of his own. "Nah, it's just my winning personality."

He actually managed to elicit a laugh, albeit one devoid of warmth. Her eyes were glossy, as if her mind were somewhere else entirely. "You know, I've been wondering what kind of person would actually willingly hook up with a murderous psychopath like Handsome Jack-"

"Lilith," Maya interjected, throwing her friend a warning glance. But Lilith ignored her and went on to add, "-And I've gotta say, you are definitely not what I had in mind. Really shattering my expectations here, killer."

Rhys automatically tensed at the nickname. His throat clenched, making his voice sound even more hoarse as a result. "What do you want from me?"

There was a long pause before he received his answer. Lilith hunched forward till her eyes hovered directly above his own. He could see it: the hatred writhing within her, less chaotic than Jack's, but just as potent.

"I want Jack dead," she finally said. "And one way or another, you're going to help me do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"Why the hell didn't you tell me that you can fly?"_
> 
> _「YOU NEVER ASKED.」_
> 
> _Rhys looked outwards, towards the horizon. From the windows of Helios, Pandora looked drab and self-contained, like a packed ball of dirt hurtling through space. But from his current view, soaring above the grasslands in the ocean of the sky, the planet seemed a little more ... majestic, almost._
> 
> _And then the quiet moment was instantly shattered by the music—a pop ballad?—that began blaring through Loader Bot's speakers._
> 
> ♪ _「I CAN SHOW YOU THE WORLD」_ ♪
> 
> _Rhys blinked._
> 
> ♫ _「SHINING, SHIMMERING, SPLENDID」_ ♫
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }


	20. Wrath pt.II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems we've (finally) reached the beginning of the end for this particular story. Thanks to everyone who took the time to read this, give kudos, and comment! I really appreciate all the support I've gotten over the past several months. :')
> 
> Song for this chapter: [DJ Okawari - Luv Letter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGvIzFRcRMA&index=34&list=FLwm7rTycNufrFb38a1vWFuQ)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> bell ❤  { [twitter](https://twitter.com/bellpickle) | [tumblr](http://bellpickle.tumblr.com) }

Despite Lilith's frequent provocations, Rhys endured the rest of the journey in a spiteful silence. He opened his mouth only to cough from the persistent dryness of his throat, disturbing the layer of dust coating his lungs. The sand particles shot out from between his lips and wafted into the air, slightly clouding the image of the metal walls flanking him, bordering his otherwise unobstructed view of the sky. They eventually came to a stop, and even without fully seeing his surroundings, Rhys knew exactly where his kidnappers had taken him.

"This it?"

"I think so. This path looks the same as the one in the video. Then again, just about everything looks the same around here."

Lilith hoisted him up by the armpits, pulling him to his feet. The staircase leading to the bunker now stood directly ahead of him. He felt a nudge at his back and stumbled forward, his cybernetic arm swinging limp and useless, like a dead weight at his side. They pushed him once more, but this time, Rhys barely budged. The soles of his skag boots lightly scuffed the dirt at the base of the stairs as he rocked backwards on his heels, refusing to take another step forward.

Though he anticipated their reaction, the firm press of the gun barrel between his shoulder blades felt no less chilling. "Come on, killer. I know the hard-on you have for Handsome Jack is keeping you from thinking clearly, but whatever he's hiding in there can't possibly be worth the hole I'm about to blow into your chest."

Rhys cast his eyes downwards, a wry smile stretching his lips. Their intel was surprisingly solid; all their assumptions had so far proven true. Until now.

"I'm worth more to you alive than dead," he replied, but even to his own ears, his words lacked conviction. All his previous encounters with death had rendered him panicked and desperate, like a fish on dry land flailing for its life. But now, a numbing calm flowed through him, soothing his fraying nerves and rattling heartbeat.

The mouth of the gun sunk deeper into his back, hard enough to mark his skin. "You sure about that? Considering what a psycho murderer Jack is, I'm sure he'll try to kill us whether we keep you alive or not. And no matter what kind of security this place has, we'll find a way in, sooner or later. You're just helping us speed things up a little." The pressure on his back eased as Lilith lifted the barrel slightly upwards, dragging it from the middle of his back to his shoulder. "Or, you know, I could just put a couple bullets in you and leave you here to bleed to death. Your choice."

He heard a click as the pistol's hammer locked into place. Rhys barely even flinched at the sound.

"I'm giving you till the count of five."

Rhys felt a glowing warmth at his temple. His chest seized, and he nearly blurted her name, until he heard her say, "Don't make a sound, Rhys! Don't react at all."

"One."

Rhys stilled, training his face to maintain a mask of neutrality. Angel's words echoed in his mind, her melodic timbre now bruised by a strained quiver at the edges of her voice. "Just do what they say for now. Don't let them hurt you."

"Two."

"When they're distracted, run back towards where you are now, at the stairs."

"Three."

"Don't panic, no matter what happens. Just trust me, okay?"

"Four."

"Now go."

Rhys forced himself to lift his foot onto the bottom step, his muscles stiff, as if in protest. The pressure at his back eased into a feather light touch, the sirens closely trailing him from behind. When he reached the top of the stairs, Angel spoke to him once more.

"I'm sorry, Rhys. This is all my fault. I shouldn't have tried to block everyone out." Rhys balled his hands into fists, his nails biting into his palm. It was a peculiar brand of cruelty, to be forced to listen to her in silence when there was so much he wanted to say. After a brief, contemplative pause, she added, "I won't let them hurt you. I promise."

Her warmth faded. The rest of the walk was spent in silence, the sirens occasionally reminding him of their presence with the fleeting caress of the pistol at his back. Rhys came to a stop before the full body scanner blocking the entrance to the control core. His throat clenched in anticipation; under normal circumstances, the guards should have long been alerted to their presence.

He heard a low whistle at his back. "Damn. Whatever's in here, Jack must really not want other people to find it." The pistol dug into his flesh once more. "Though I guess if he trusts you enough to his blow his load in you, he trusts you with this too?" Lilith accompanied the comment with a crude laugh.

From a further distance, he heard Maya say, "Seriously, let's not mention Jack's load ever again. Just push him into the scanner already."

After a particularly rough shove, Rhys stumbled into the scanner. A ring of light searched him from head-to-toe, roaming every inch of his body before signalling its approval. He felt his gut curl into itself as he was prompted to say the passphrase attached to his biosignature. His was considerably less personal (and way less awkward) than Jack's passphrase ... but now, he wondered if he should've spoken those words aloud to Angel, at some point. He wondered if he had missed his chance.

As if sensing his hesitation, Lilith pressed the gun to him once more, the barrel kissing the bruise that had already formed at his back. _Sorry, Angel_ , Rhys thought, his eyes fluttering shut. Whatever Angel's plan was, there was no way he would ever risk letting their enemies inside.

"Emergency lockdown."

The scanner light flickered to an unwelcoming red hue, as a grating wail began blaring from every speaker in their immediate area. There was a sudden burst of pain at the side of his head, just barely missing his neural port. Darkness encroached the edges of his vision, temporarily blinding him. Rhys didn't realize he had fallen until his knees slammed against the metal grate of the floor.

He glanced over his shoulder just as his vision cleared and found himself staring into the gun barrel that had so harassed him, now hovering mere inches above his face. The pistol was smeared with a streak of red, and when Rhys felt a trickle of warm liquid run down the side of his face, he belatedly understood it to be his own blood.

Maya grabbed at Lilith's arm, but was quickly rebuffed. Lilith stared down at him, unblinking, as her finger hugged the trigger. Her eyes were so wide it looked painful, as though she were struggling to engrave every last detail into her mind. Her lips were curved into a smile.

Rhys felt the proximity of death in that moment, with an oppressive certainty he had never before experienced. This woman was going to kill him. He was going to die.

He thought of Jack. He thought of Angel. And then he closed his eyes.

* * *

Rhys awoke to a clear, starry sky, the distinct shadow of Helios hovering at the periphery of his vision. A weak but chilly breeze had lured him to consciousness, and he felt its lingering touch in the areas where it had penetrated his clothing.

His ears caught the sound of a mechanical hiss nearby. He carefully rolled to his side, wincing as the pain from his new bruises flared in protest, and saw Loader Bot propped against a boulder some ways away from him. The bot gave him a stiff wave.

「HI.」

Rhys frowned, choosing not to return the greeting. The fogginess of sleep was dissipating, and the memories were slotting back into the forefront of his mind. He remembered the eerie calm he had achieved while kneeling on the floor, which was then interrupted by a deafening roar and a sudden rush of heat. There were knicks in his clothing from the bits of shrapnel created in the blast, though judging from the high-pitched yelps of pain, it seemed his assailants had absorbed the brunt of the damage. Maya was knocked backwards, her fall claiming Lilith as well. As Rhys watched them both collapse into a crumpled heap, something clicked in his head—an electric spark spurring him to action.

He scrambled to his feet, pushing past the violent throbbing in his head as he sprinted away from the door, away from the sirens and the flashing red lights. His boots slammed against the metal grate, each footstep echoing loudly over the persisting wail of the alarms. He was halfway towards the staircase when the weightlessness returned, followed by the crippling catatonia.

He gently floated off the ground and hovered, as if resting on a cloud. From his fixed angle, he could just barely make out the chaos unfolding from below: he spotted a Hot Loader erupting into a ball of fire, only for it to reanimate seconds later, the scattered pieces of its body clobbering back in place, as if pulled together by a strong magnet. Above the volley of gunfire, he heard Lilith spit out a string of curses, her frustration heightening with each bot that she failed to put down for good.

The staccato beats of artillery fire overlapped and morphed into a single dull roar, one loud enough to temporarily deafen Rhys to the rhythmic thrum of an engine. The sound was accompanied by a low whistling, as though something were flying towards him at a brisk speed. If it was a Jet Loader, Rhys prayed that it recognized him as an ally.

The feeling returned to his body at the precise moment that he began free-falling back towards the ground, the rush of air in his ears blocking out all other noise. He braced himself for the landing, which was both quicker and softer than he had anticipated. The wind shifted direction and was now battering him directly in the face. His eyelids fluttered open, his vision eclipsed by a familiar red eye.

「WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITHOUT ME?」

Rhys felt his mouth stretch into a slow grin as he swung his good arm around the bot's broad shoulders. He risked a glance downwards, and aside from the dizzying elevation, he also realized that Loader Bot was missing his entire lower half. He had been reduced to a flying torso—and even then, his friend had somehow still managed to save his life.

He loosened his embrace upon noticing just how far they had flown, the bunker now a silver speck in the distance. "We have to turn back. Angel is still trapped in there."

Loader Bot stared straight ahead, purposefully avoiding his gaze.

「I PROMISED ANGEL THAT I WOULD PROTECT YOU. I DO NOT WANT TO BREAK THAT PROMISE.」

Rhys opened his mouth, but not a single protest reached his lips. He watched as the bunker shrunk to nothing, the grasslands eventually giving way to the vast, infertile desert bordering it. He slumped into Loader Bot's arms, passively scanning the sand dunes stretching outwards in every direction. For the first time since he was a child, he prayed.

It seemed that he had dozed off, at some point, and that Loader Bot had decided to rest on a nameless cliff overlooking the desert. The sand twinkled at night, mirroring the sky. Rhys scooped a handful of it into his cupped hand and watched the grains sift through his fingers.

He attempted to contact Jack, who failed to answer. He then considered calling Angel, but opted to instead send a typed message:

> please tell me you're okay

He curled into a ball, burying his face into his lap as he awaited a response. He nearly nodded off once more, but shook himself awake when he felt a tepid warmth at his temple, one so faint he might've missed it if he hadn't anticipated it. "Angel!"

Loader Bot's eye whirred away from him and focused instead on the landscape below. He lifted himself up by the arms and relocated to a crag further down the slope of the cliff, allowing Rhys some semblance of privacy.

"Angel, are you okay? What happened?" For a long moment, all Rhys heard was her slow, labored breathing. She took in large gulps of air with each inhalation; if it weren't for the controlled pace of her breaths, he might've thought she was hyperventilating. "Angel?"

"I'm here," she replied, her voice hitching oddly. Was she hiccuping? "I'm fine. They ... They haven't hurt me."

Her words did nothing to loosen the tightness in his chest; if anything, her reassurances only exacerbated his worries. He noted, with increasing concern, that Angel had chosen to speak through audio rather than video. "Are the cameras working? I want to see you."

She fell silent once more. Rhys heard some kind of commotion in the background and he listened closely, attempting to parse out the sounds. He recognized Jack's voice, yelling something in the distance, and the tightness inside him twisted into a vicious knot. Rhys couldn't make out the words, but his voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been yelling for quite some time. "Angel," Rhys said, but he was cut short-

"Thank you, Rhys. I'm ... I'm so grateful to have been part of your life. Thank you for always making time to talk to me even though you were always so busy. And for going out of your way to visit me, and for all the gifts you gave me, and just ... everything. I don't think you realize how much all that meant to me. Thank you. I'm sorry I didn't say it often enough. I'm sorry." Her voice faded to a whisper.

Rhys listened quietly. There was a dull throbbing in his head and a roiling in his gut. He felt the sudden urge to vomit. "What the hell is going on? Why are you saying this?" In the background, he caught Jack scream, in a voice dripping with desperation, "-stay the hell away from my daughter, you damn-"

"Please take care of yourself, Rhys. My ... my father will make sure you return safely. I promise."

"Don't tell me to take care of myself when you're the one who's-" Rhys rubbed at the moisture dribbling down his cheeks. His eyes stung. "You can still escape, can't you? Why are you talking like this?"

Angel's presence at his temple flickered, like a waning light. Rhys pressed his fingers to his neural port, the heat from his skin adding to her warmth. "Escaping was all I thought about, for a long time. I ... I felt like I didn't have control over anything that was happening to me, like I was a slave to my father's whims. But now, I have a choice. And I'm not going to run away from it."

There was a thunderous boom, followed by the pitter-patter of rubble drumming against metal tiles. Lilith's voice pierced through the noise of the fallout, heralding a shower of gunfire. Rhys felt his heart seize in his chest, the new sounds sending a jolt of fear searing through him.

"Please, Angel-"

"Goodbye, Rhys. I-"

She vanished in the next instant, as if ripped away from him. The skin beneath his fingertips felt cold. Rhys sat rooted to his spot, his mouth hanging open in stunned silence. Their conversation replayed through his mind over and over till he was numb to it, the words losing all meaning.

Eventually, he wobbled to his feet and shuffled to Loader Bot's side, as if in a trance. Wordlessly, Rhys wrapped his arm around Loader Bot's neck and buried his face into his shoulder, streaks of half-dried tears staining his cheeks.

Together, they retraced the path to the bunker. All around them, the desert was silent.

* * *

The air surrounding the bunker seemed thicker, tendrils of smoke stretching out to meet them as they flew past. A squadron of vehicles now surrounded the entrance, the hood of each one painted with a bright H that was all the more glaring in the dark. The sight of the familiar logo kindled a spark of hope within Rhys—but it was extinguished the moment he spotted Jack idling near the bunker's entrance.

His head was bowed, his whole body hunched over, obscuring the bundle cradled in his arms. Rhys approached him on unsteady legs. A thin, limp arm slipped from his lap, one lined with a familiar chain of tattoos.

Rhys noted, with a detached fascination, that this was the first time he had ever seen Angel with her eyes closed. She looked peaceful and unburdened. In contrast, Jack seemed at war with himself, five different emotions vying for dominance within him—none of them good. Deep stress lines were visible even through his mask, giving him the appearance of an older, wearier man.

As he neared, the toe of his boot scuffed a pebble, and Jack immediately flinched away from the sound, baring his teeth at him as he drew Angel closer to his chest. The hostility dissipated in an instant and was replaced by a series of fleeting expressions: first surprise, then regret, and then something resembling shame.

Jack loosened his hold on Angel, allowing Rhys to get a better look at her. She was unnaturally still, despite her complete lack of visible wounds. He reached out with a trembling hand, the backs of his fingers lightly brushing her cheek. He noted, with the same detached fascination, that this was the first time he had ever really touched her. Her skin was cold.

"She went out swinging," Jack said, with the slightest quiver at the edges of his voice. "Really gave 'em hell. Even managed to take one of the vault hunters down with her. And _Lilith_ -" the name came out as a growl on Jack's lips, "-is in our custody now. And it's all thanks to my Angel. She always was a fighter."

Jack's voice broke on the last word, his mouth twisting into a grimace. The obvious pride embedded in the other man's words made Rhys's stomach churn. Was that supposed to make him feel better, knowing that she killed a vault hunter? Why did it matter? Why did any of it matter?

Rhys didn't remember much after that. He would later recall him and Loader Bot boarding the same shuttle carrying Angel's body. From the shuttle's windows, he watched the staff unceremoniously dump the bulky, muscular corpse of the vault hunter into a crude ditch. All throughout the ride back to Helios, Jack described, in increasingly lurid detail, the various ideas he had for dealing with the last remaining siren. For the most part, Rhys tuned him out. He felt emptied, as though everything inside him had been scraped out.

His eyes fell upon the body still clutched to Jack's chest. There was still so much he had wanted to say—years and years of conversations now stolen from him.

But it no longer mattered. Angel was dead.


	21. Wrath pt.III

His memories of the days following were blurred and colorless, as if veiled by a linen shroud. He remembered the last time he saw the body, as he glimpsed a flash of pallid, sunken flesh before the lid of the ivory casket slid shut. He remembered Jack's outpour of anguish and rage after the burial, as well as the eerie restraint that preceded it. He remembered the afternoons spent staring at his bedroom ceiling, skimming the edges of consciousness.

Confining himself to his penthouse did not spare him from Jack's daily overhead announcements, which Rhys used to mark the passage of time. On Monday, he spoke about the burial; it was the first and last time Jack publicly mentioned Angel by name. The next day, he played an audio recording of him tormenting a captive Lilith, and the day after, he talked at length about the vault.

One night, Jack wordlessly crept into his room and held him with such force that his breaths came out as wheezes. He was gone when Rhys awoke the next morning.

A full week passed before Rhys mustered the energy to return to work. His first day back, he met Vaughn for lunch. Few words passed between them, though "I'm sorry, Rhys" were the most conspicuous of them all. Rhys said nothing in response.

For a while, his days carried on as usual, cruel and deceptive in their normalcy.

* * *

The night before it all ended, Rhys was summoned to Jack's office. He had been returning home after a long day of meetings when he received a message from Jack that read, "Come to my office. Now."

When Rhys arrived, Jack was sitting with his back to him, staring at his personal panaromic view of Elpis. Jack addressed him once he came to a stop at the foot of his desk. "Didya know this was the exact same office I had when I was building this place?" Jack spun towards him, just enough so Rhys could see the curiously pensive expression on his face. "Of course, back then this room didn't look half as sweet as it does now. But still. It has the same view. Same moon, same swirly, glowing asscrack."

Rhys rounded the corners of desk before leaning against its edge, standing comfortably at Jack's side. "If that's the case, then in a way, you haven't gone anywhere. You're still in the exact same place you were before."

Jack turned to look at him, a surprisingly serious expression on his face. And then he let out a long sigh. "Way to dampen the mood, babe." Jack lifted his hands from the chair's armrests and gracelessly gestured towards his lap. "C'mere already."

Rhys straddled Jack's thighs with ease, having grown long accustomed to the intimate position. Jack leaned into him, his warm breath eliciting a shiver as it skirted the side of his neck. "Settle down there, sweetheart," Jack said with an affectionate snort, delighted by his unusual sensitivity.

Jack's hands slip beneath his jacket, and Rhys bit his bottom lip as he suppressed another shiver. He realized then how celibate his life had been of late; the two of them had barely even touched the past few weeks. "Well ... it _has_ been a while."

Jack hummed his agreement, mouthing the sound against his skin. Rhys felt the other man's fingers pinch his chin and tip his face downwards. Their lips met halfway, clumsy and desperate, as if it were their first time. Rhys reflexively froze upon contact, but forced the tension from his muscles. He melted into Jack's embrace, and it was enough to momentarily silence the white noise buzzing at the back of his mind.

His eyes snapped open upon feeling wetness on his cheeks. It took Jack longer to notice, but once he saw, he leaned away, his expression stricken with alarm. Rhys hid his face, burying it against the crook of Jack's shoulder in embarrassment. He didn't know why he was crying when he should have been enjoying himself. But he didn't feel like stopping either.

Jack loosened his hold over his waist, though his body remained taut from stress and unspent energy, like a loaded bullet awaiting discharge. When he spoke, it was in a low rumble that ruffled the tips of Rhys's hair. "I'll fix everything. The vault hunters, the bandits, the whole damn planet. It all ends tomorrow." Rhys sat up to look the other man in the face, though his tears distorted his visage. He could still make out the smirk on Jack's lips as he said, "We finally reached the vault. It's right in the middle of a friggin' volcano. Figures, right?" He punctuated the question with a dry, humorless laugh.

"I'll fix everything," Jack repeated, in a quieter voice.

Despite Jack's reassurances, the white noise within Rhys swelled into a deafening roar. The noises layered and twined into the form of a snake, slithering through tall grass. He wanted Jack to abandon Pandora. He wanted him to stay by his side, in the comparative safety of Helios.

And then, like an epiphany, he recalled the image of Angel's limp body draped across Jack's arms. In the next second, he remembered the faces of her killers.

"Take care of it quickly," Rhys said. "Don't stay down there any longer than you need to." He expected a response laced with Jack's usual wit and innuendo. Instead, Jack merely nodded, then rested his palm atop the crown of Rhys's head and pulled him towards his chest. Rhys stayed there, cradled in his lap, till the tears dried onto his skin.

The next morning, he escorted Jack to his shuttle. He stepped towards the open, beckoning door, but halted midstep and spun back towards Rhys in a single, awkward movement. "Hey. Let's go on another trip when I get back, yeah? Maybe to another water planet in the next galaxy over."

Rhys allowed himself a small smile. "Okay. But I want to choose the destination this time."

"Course you do," Jack said with a flippant hand wave. "Why not. Go wild." He boarded the shuttle with little more than a "See you in a few, babe." And just like that, he was gone.

* * *

The whisperings began the next day. Rhys overheard a pair of programmers from his department say that Jack had been swallowed by the volcano's lava, which erupted the moment he opened the vault. A different rumor milled about the executive floor: according to their intel, the sirens killed the Warrior and executed Jack alongside it. Rhys refused to believe it at first. But as the days passed without so much as a word from Jack, the rumors' potential truth loomed ever larger in his mind.

On the morning of the fourth day, the possibility of Jack marching into Helios, healthy and victorious, vanished within a minute. Rhys had just settled into his office when he received a call on his ECHOcomm from a contact labelled "Jack". He stared at the name, his eyes boring into the letters as hope swelled so thick he thought he might choke on it.

"Jack?" Rhys asked. His voice sounded small, betraying the knot of hope and fear within him.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, killer, but it's just me. Did you know that Jack had you labelled as 'sweetcheeks' on his comm? Ugh, just when I thought I reached peak hatred for the man."

Despite her apparent disgust, Rhys heard a note of satisfaction in her tone. It was a stark contrast to the anger that so consumed her when they first met; she now reminded him of a ravenous beast that feasted on its hard-won prey. Rhys suddenly felt faint; when he spoke, a tremble coiled through his words. "What did you do to him?"

"Wait, seriously? They haven't told you?" She let out a hard, brittle sound that resembled a laugh. "I hope your ivory tower at least has windows."

The tremble spread from Rhys's voice to his hands. He asked again, though he already knew the answer. "What did you do to him?"

There was a long pause followed by a sharp sigh that cut like an arid breeze. "Listen up, handsome, 'cause I'm only saying this once: if you've got any brains left in that pretty head of yours, you'll forget about Jack and move on with your life. Nothing good will come from clinging onto that lunatic's ghost."

Her words cracked something within him, his lightheadedness giving way to blinding, white-hot rage. "Fuck you," Rhys spat before ending the call. He tore the ECHOcomm off and flung it towards the fireplace across from his desk; it skidded to a halt a few feet short of the flames. He restricted himself to his locked office for the remainder of the day, refusing to see or speak with anyone.

Jack's body arrived on Helios the following morning. After a fiery debate amongst the executives, the group decided that R&D's biological engineering team would take ownership of it on the condition that they shift their priorities to cloning research.

Rhys was the first to see the body. Unlike Angel's oddly spotless corpse, blood splatter covered every inch of Jack's clothing and skin. Countless wounds marked his flesh, though none looked fatal on their own. It was a familiar image to anyone who knew Jack personally; he wore bloodstains as comfortably as he wore his trademark Hyperion sweater. That he died as violently as he lived felt appropriate.

It was only when Rhys caressed Jack's cheek that he realized the mask was no longer grafted to his face. The metal clasps had been ripped from their hinges. The mask was carefully fixed in its usual spot, shielding his natural face from exposure.

Rhys thumbed the bottom edge of the mask. It felt stiff and artificial, as if it also had its life drained. His fingers lingered for a moment. And then he withdrew his hand, leaving the mask undisturbed.

Later that night, Blake announced their CEO's death to all of Helios. It was a sterile lamentation, one barely adequate for a figure of Jack's magnitude. Rhys thought that the sheer unsexiness of the speech would have greatly offended Jack. ( _"All the things I did for these schmucks and this is_ _the_ _best_ _they_ _could_ _manage?"_ Rhys imagined him saying.) Jack might have thought better of the funeral, a grand affair that took place over the course of an entire day and preceded a one-month mandatory mourning period.

Rhys spent much of it alone in his penthouse. And even once the rest of Hyperion ended their mourning, for Rhys, it had only just begun.

* * *

What most surprised Rhys was how little life on Helios changed. He initially anticipated a violent feud, one rivaling the bloody conflict he had witnessed throughout the first week of Jack's tenure as CEO. But as the weeks slipped into months, Hyperion's highest position remained unclaimed.

The company salvaged the few statues and posters that the Pandorans had not already desecrated and used them to imprint the image of Handsome Jack, untarnished and immutable, onto the minds of all who looked upon him: sometimes standing with his hands at his hips, often grinning, and always radiating his own toxic magneticism. Even in death, Jack's influence stretched out like tendrils, penetrating every decision, every desire, every person on Helios, until the entire station began to feel like a mausoleum of Jack's own creation. To Rhys, it were as though he and all the rest of Hyperion had forgotten how to be anything other than what Jack wanted them to be.

As time passed, Rhys worked less and less. Half a year later, he voluntarily resigned from his position as VP. Vasquez, who had recently benefited from a string of suspicious promotions, snatched the title from him no less than a week afterwards. But aside from the pity he felt for Vasquez's new underlings, Rhys could otherwise scarcely bring himself to care.

Though Vasquez tried his hardest to evict Rhys from Helios, the company ultimately allowed him to keep his penthouse. The board itself granted the permission as a gesture of respect for the closeness he had shared with Jack. It made Rhys proud; he felt he had inherited some small part of Jack's mythicness.

Few came to visit him in the lonely months that followed. Vaughn dropped by on occasion, but their interactions remained strained, the easy camaraderie they once shared now but a memory. At some point, Loader Bot found his way into Rhys's living room and never left.

"You know," Rhys said on an otherwise forgettable afternoon, "You don't have to stay here. I'll be okay on my own."

「DO YOU WANT ME TO LEAVE?」

Rhys stilled, his hands clutching the novel on his lap a little more tightly. "Would you leave if I asked you to?"

A pause then, 「YES.」

"Then I won't ask." Rhys refocused his gaze onto his book, failing to stifle the steeped affection tugging at the corners of his lips.

For a long while, things were quiet. His former employees rarely contacted him for fear of retaliation from their new boss, and the executives had all but ceased communication the moment he stepped down. So when Rhys received a text from Bradley that simply read "check your email", he could not suppress the wary curiosity that bubbled anew. The email contained a short message, as well as several attached documents.

> A few technical writers on my team dredged these reports up for me. We're unable to verify any of it and Nakayama certainly had more than a few screws loose, but I figured you of all people deserve to know. If everything pans out, tell Jack I'd much appreciate a pay raise.

Rhys read and reread the email with such scrutiny that he nearly committed the paragraph to memory. The name Nakayama was familiar, though he only recalled Jack describing him as a "creepy, wispy nerd". His eyes flickered to Jack's name, so casually referenced, and tried not to focus on the impossible promise implicit in the words.

He opened the first file, titled "Results - Data Extraction 3.02". At a glance, it looked to be a standard lab report, though the experiment was not one Rhys recognized. Then he took a closer look at the buried notes printed in tiny lettering, and all questions flew from his mind, like a long shadow retreating from the sun. He skimmed through the remaining attachments, all lab reports with the exception of one.

The final document was a scanned ad promoting an exhibit at a grotesque Pandoran establishment that listed human taxidermy as one of its offerings. Nakayama's stuffed corpse was the newest addition.

The likelihood that this trail would lead to anything worthwhile was improbable at best, infinitesimal at worst. This was Pandora, after all. Nothing of value remained on the planet for too long ... Angel had been proof of that.

But with so few chips left on the table, Rhys knew it was a gamble he was more than willing to take.

* * *

Rhys was less than thrilled to find that departing Helios via moonshot was as rough as he remembered, the walls of their container rattling with the severity of clenched teeth in winter. Vaughn's screams upon takeoff added to the hellishness of being hurtled into space. From the backseat, he heard Loader Bot say over the roar of the propulsion, 「DO NOT WORRY. IF WE CRASH, IT WILL BE A QUICK AND PAINLESS DEATH.」 Unsurprisingly, the bleak reassurance only made Vaughn scream louder.

When Rhys arrived at the loading dock just minutes prior, his friends had already been waiting for him at the moonshot cannon. He had expected Loader Bot; Vaughn was a surprise. Rhys shot Loader Bot an accusatory look. "Did you tell?"

「YOU NEVER SAID IT WAS A SECRET.」

"Listen," Vaughn said, dodging Rhys and muscling his way into the vehicle—the plainest, most inconspicuous car Rhys could get on short notice—with freakish strength. "I know things have been ... weird between us for a while now." Vaughn paused, his eyes darting, visibly scrambling for words. "But you're my friend and I want to help you. And if getting him back will make you yourself again ... then I want to help make that happen." He stretched out a hand in offering, his whole body slouching forward in an attempt to close the gap between them. "So ... how about it? Are we cool?"

Rhys nodded, an old warmth rekindling within him. He shook his friend's hand and smiled for what felt like the first time in days.

Vaughn achieved a relative calm as they glided through the smooth stretch that made up the middle leg of their journey. But the screaming resumed as they crashed into layer upon layer of Pandoran atmosphere. "Why did I agree to this?" Vaughn yelled in anguish just as they made impact with a dirt road. The walls of their container ripped open, and then shed off completely, like scattered petals in a breeze.

The Pandoran wastes spread out before them as their tires ripped through sand and dry earth, shooting towards the setting sun. Vaughn marveled at their drab surroundings. Upon spotting a wandering skag, he pointed at it and asked, "What the hell is that thing?" Rhys could only respond with laughter.

The road led them to a small, dusty town reeking of decay: rust contaminated the tin, shanty-like huts bordering the road, and the stench of half-spoiled meat violated their nostrils, flavoring the air itself. Vaughn audibly gagged. "You know, I always figured Handsome Jack exaggerated how bad things were down here. But nope. Pandora actually does suck."

Rhys kept a wary eye on the few inhabitants roaming the street or lurking in the shadowed alleys between huts. Each one of them diverted their gazes the instant they spotted Loader Bot in the backseat; Rhys supposed he should've felt thankful that they were deemed not worth the trouble. He had visited Pandora dozens of times, but only now did he see what sat beyond the beautiful, sparkling veneer of Opportunity—and it was grime, rot, and death that awaited him on the other side. In that moment, Rhys swallowed the bitter reality that Jack died for a place like this.

It took two rotations through the town's main road to find their destination. The building's exterior was as unremarkable as any other, a shield of junk metal obscuring its sign: "World of Curiosities" it read, garish letters winking down at them from a plywood board. Darkness clogged the building's insides, which Rhys navigated with assistance from his ECHOeye. Dust particles danced in what little light remained, casting eerie shadows on the dried animal carcasses lining the walls. "Curious" was hardly the word Rhys would have chosen to describe the place.

Upon expressing interest in Nakayama, the museum's caretaker, a twitchy, talkative creature named Shade, led them down a yellow corridor. "Did you take any of Nakayama's belongings?" Rhys asked, tempering his tone in an attempt to sound casual. "Like any papers he had with him when he died? Or data drives?"

"Nope!" Shade said, spitting the word around the cigarette holder braced between his teeth. "What you see is what you get, I'm afraid. Real twisted up when I found him too. Did you know he was killed by stairs?"

Rhys had not known, but judging by the state of Nakayama's corpse, it was surprisingly easy to accept. Vericose veins bulged from beneath his mottled skin, the cloying scent of chemicals and decomposition wafting from his exposed flesh. He was immensely glad that the Pandorans hadn't gotten their hands on Jack's body ... or Angel's.

It was Vaughn who plucked the ID drive out from its placeholder in Nakayama's shoulder cannon. "Well, at least we won't leave _totally_ empty-handed," he said, passing the drive to Rhys. It was no heavier than a toothbrush, but had the storage capacity of a super computer. Or a human brain.

Rhys stared at the drive as it lay innocently on his palm. And then, without hesitation, he plugged it into his neural port.

"Are you crazy?" he heard Vaughn yell just before the first wave of pain assaulted him. Something cold and formless surged through his brain, like a shot of electricity or fire or liquid nitrogen, burning and freezing everything in its reach. He could feel his mind pulsing, beating like a heart trapped in the hollow of his skull.

Rhys fell to his knees, his vision momentarily going black. When he came to, Vaughn's face hovered mere inches above his own. Behind him, beyond the curve of Vaughn's jaw was a faint blue shimmer. It flickered like a fading light bulb, and then moved closer, as if taking a step towards him.

Vaughn said something, but Rhys didn't know what. He focused on the blue light, which took on an increasingly familiar shape: a flash of broad shoulders, tousled hair, a confident smirk. Rhys ignored the indignant squawk Vaughn made as he swatted his face away, unblocking his view.

And then there he was, hands at his hips and head tilted ever so slightly, grinning at Rhys with fond affection. Just like that, the months of separation and loneliness peeled away like old skin, revealing something new and beautiful underneath. His voice echoed through his head, filling each crevice and empty space within him.

"Heya, babe. Why the long face?"


	22. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge, huge thank you to everyone who's made it this far! This story has finally come to an end. I don't know if I would have reached this point if this fic hadn't received so much support, so thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, give kudos, and an especially big thank you to everyone who commented! I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)))

Installing an AI as the company CEO was a smoother process than anyone anticipated. As company president, Rhys was Jack's arms and legs, completing every physical task that their CEO couldn't accomplish on his own and occasionally speaking on his behalf. Jack made his presence known to the company through impromptu appearances on computer screens, hijacked intercoms, or the rare, full-bodied holographic projection; otherwise, he communicated almost exclusively with Rhys. And the rest of Hyperion acquiesced to the arrangement, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

Though their cloning research had advanced to the level that they could easily recreate a flesh-and-blood replica of Jack's body, he seemed in no hurry to gain a corporeal form. "What's the rush?" he told Rhys, shrugging before disappearing into the tangled inner web of the Helios network. Sometimes, Rhys wondered if Jack felt closer to Angel in his current form. As an AI, he traveled down the same wires she had and watched the inhabitants of Helios through the same eyes. Instead of warmth, Rhys felt a pleasant electric spark at his temple when Jack spoke to him directly. Rhys started each morning reading the secret notes Jack left for him in his email inbox the night before. Like daughter, like father.

Jack's tireless perusal of the Helios databases mostly succeeded at bridging his considerable memory gap: about a year's worth of data total, including the last six months of Jack's human life. He relearned all the large developments: the drastic drop in Hyperion stock prices following his death, the reshuffling of upper management, the most disruptive changes in their competitive landscape. But some memories were lost to Jack, the small, personal experiences that Rhys had sole knowledge of: endearments meant only for Rhys's ears, private flirtations, quieter moments. All gone, like the faded afterimages of an illusion or a fever dream.

Angel's death was the one thing Rhys informed Jack about directly. He told him while they were still on Pandora, prepping the return ride to Helios. The minute shifts in the AI's facial expressions played like a heavily spliced film reel of the real Jack's reaction to Angel's death. First came disbelief, then a flicker of remorse, then a brief absence of emotion, and finally an upswell of directionless rage. If it had been anyone other than Rhys, Jack may have had the messenger killed the moment he arrived on Helios.

"I dream about her sometimes," Jack said in a faux casual tone, as though it were a stray thought plucked from his mind. It was late, long after regular work hours. Jack's prone body hovered above their shared desk in what was once known as Handsome Jack's office, now called the Presidential Office. Rhys tore his eyes from his work and refocused them on Jack, the neon blue glow making the AI's face all the more inscrutable. "It's usually of her as a kid, around the same age as she was in that picture," Jack gestured at the wooden frame, so rooted to the desk that dust gathered at its legs. "And in the dreams, we're always doing normal, boring crap. Stupid, ain't it?"

Jack's voice was quiet, as though the slightest disturbance might shatter the moment. Rhys had no idea how an AI had the capacity to dream—but he didn't have the heart to question him. Instead, he said, "I dream about her too." Angel was older in his dreams; on his most restless nights, his mind conjured the image of her as an adult, building a life in some far-flung planet outside the reach of Pandora or even Hyperion. "Do you think things could have turned out ... better? I feel like maybe if we had chosen differently, she might still be..." His voice faded, unable to choke out the words through the sudden tightening of his throat.

Jack's face hardened, displaying such an impressive imitation of muscle that Rhys had to stop himself from touching the AI's cheek. After weeks of interaction, the lifelike accuracy of the hologram's projection still fascinated Rhys. "Even if that's true, there's nothing we can do about it now. Life happens and we deal with it. That's how it's always been." His voice frayed at the edges, as it often did when something upset him.

Jack's eyes narrowed as they gained a faraway look, fixating on some intangible thing unconstrained by time or place, forever beyond his reach. Gazing at him now, Rhys knew it was only a matter of time till the red hot embers dwelling inside Jack fanned and swelled into a raging fire, one large enough to engulf Pandora in its flames.

But for now, Rhys reached for Jack's hand, touching without touching, and the fire in his stare took on a different color, shifting from a vengeful orange to a passionate red. Rhys let his eyes fall shut, bathing in its warmth.

"So how about it, sweetheart? Even if everything goes to shit ... Will you follow me till the end?"

A million futures played out in his mind's eye, like a movie projected onto the backdrop of his closed eyelids. Some ended in triumph; most ended in tragedy. But no matter what the ending, both he and Jack faced them together, side-by-side.

Rhys opened his eyes. "Of course."


End file.
